S-.-:LLf  jr. 


^3^  PTJTMrTTTnM     M      T  ^i*i 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


% 


Purchased   by  the   Hamill   Missionary   Fund. 


BV  2087  .A6  1917 
Applegarth,  Margaret  T.  1886 

-1976. 
Fifty-two  primary  missionarv 


Q  t  n  T  1  ffk  ct 


FIFTY-TWO  PRIMARY 
MISSIONARY  STORIES 


INCLUDING  ^ 

52  DRAWINGS  AND  VERSES  :^^^'^'  ^^  ^^'^^^^^ 


AY  24  1918 


BY 

MARGARET  T.  A^PLEGARTH 


BOARD    OF    PUBLICATION 

AND  BIBLE  SCHOOL  WORK 

25  E.  22nd  Street 

New  York  City 


Copyright,  1917 

BT 
BOARD  OF  PUBLICATION  AND  BIBLE  SCHOOL  WORK 


BRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOK    MANUrACTURERS 

BROOKLYN.     N.     Y. 


PREFACE 

For  a  number  of  years  it  has  been  evi- 
dent to  those  concerned  in  the  education 
of  children  on  the  subject  of  missions, 
that  material  for  the  consecutive  pres- 
entation of  the  missionary  cause  to  the 
young  was  difficult  if  not  impossible  to 
obtain.  This  situation  confronted  the 
Committee  on  Missionary  Education,  in 
the  Reformed  Church  in  America,  when 
it  undertook  to  provide  graded  lessons 
in  missions  for  the  children  and  young 
people  of  the  churches.  After  giving 
much  study  to  the  problem,  this  Com- 
mittee, appointed  by  the  Mission  Boards 
of  the  Reformed  Church,  decided  that 
the  way  to  begin  the  development  of  a 
missionary  interest  among  young  chil- 
dren, was  by  means  of  simple  stories,  to 
be  told  by  the  primary  teacher  in  the 
class,  or  by  the  mother  in  the  home.  This 
book  is  one  result  of  that  decision.    In 


2  Preface 

its  author,  Miss  Applegarth,  the  Com- 
mittee feels  that  it  has  secured  the  one 
best  qualified  to  present  the  intensely 
interesting  subject  of  world  missions  to 
the  child  mind.  The  stories  were  pre- 
pared in  the  thought  that  their  weekly 
use  in  primary  classes  would  begin  in 
January,  but  the  material  is  in  no  sense 
chronological,  and  any  story  may  be 
used  whenever  it  seems  appropriate,  al- 
though for  class  use  it  will  be  found  ad- 
iVantageous  to  use  the  stories  in  the  order 
in  which  they  are  presented.  It  is  also 
to  be  noted  that  the  material,  although 
prepared  and  published  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  Reformed  Church  in  Amer- 
ica, is  in  no  sense  denominational  and 
may  be  freely  used  by  other  churches. 
It  should  also  prove  of  great  value  in 
homes  where  there  are  young  children 
with  their  constant  demand  ^^Tell  me  a 
story." 

William  T.  Demarest. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


THE  WORLD 

PAGE 

First  Story.     "The  World  God  Made  for  Us." 7 

Second  Story.     "The  Family  God  Made  for  Him- 
self."   13 

Third  Story.    "Howthe  Artist  Forgot  Four  Colors."  19 

Fourth  Story.     "God's  Helpers." 27 

JAPAN 

Fifth  Story.     "The  Little  House-That-was-Made- 

of-Paper." 32 

Sixth  Story.     "The    Cradle-That-Walked-on-Two- 

Feet." 39 

Seventh  Story.     "The  Temple-That-Had-Five- 

Roofs." 45 

Eighth  Story.     "The  Fish-That-Svvam-in-the-Air."     50 
Ninth  Story.     "The    Little    Girl-Who-Turned-the- 

Shoes- Around." 56 

Tenth  Story.     "The  Man-Who-Was-a-Horse-all- 

Day." 63 

Eleventh  Story.     "The  Fairy  Mirror." 69 

Twelfth  Story.     "Monkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales."     77 

NEGROES  (America  and  Africa) 
Thirteenth  Story.   "Cotton  Tails  and  Other  Tales."    85 
Fourteenth  Story.     "The       House-that-was-Built 

in-Half-an-Hour." 92 

3 


4  Contents 

PAGE 

Fifteenth  Story.     "How    the    Turtle    Saved    His 

Life." 99 

Sixteenth  Story.     "The     Banana     Tree-that-was- 

Dressed-Up." 105 


INDIA 

Seventeenth  Story.     "Elephant  Tails  and  Other 

Tales." 113 

Eighteenth  Story.     "The  Way  They  Eat  Supper 

in  India." 120 

Nineteenth  Story.  "A  Crocodile  Tail  and  a  Mon- 
key Tale." 126 

Twentieth  Story.     "How     Ramaswami's     Father 

Came  to  Wear  Spectacles."  133 

Twenty-first  Story.     "Ramaswami's     Mother 

Earns  a  Rupee." 140 

Twenty-second  Story.  "The  Little  Girl- Who-* Al- 
most'-Had-to-be 
Turned- A  way." 147 

WORLD-CHILDREN'S   DAY 
Twenty-third  Story.     "God's  Little  Garden.".  .. .   154 

MOUNTAINEERS  OF  KENTUCKY 

Twenty-fourth  Story.     "The  Lonely-House-That 

Had-No-Neighbors." .    160 

Twenty-fifth  Story.     "The  Little  Girl-Who-Never 

said-Please." 167 

•  Twenty-sixth  Story.     "The  Sunbonnet  Baby.".  .  .    173 
Twenty-seventh  Story.     "The  Get- Weil-Room."..    179 


Contents  5 

IMMIGRANTS 

PAGE 

Twenty-eighth  Story.     "The  People-Who-Come 

Here-in-Boats." 185 

Twenty-ninth  Story.    "Pig-Tails  and  Other  Tales."  191 
Thirtieth  Story.     "The  Lady   Whose   Feet  Were 

Welcome." 198 

ALASKA 

Thirty-first  Story.    "The  House-That- Was-Made- 

Out-of-Ice." 204 

Thirty-second  Story.     "What  Happens  to  the  Es- 
kimo Sun  in  Winter."  .   209 

Thirty-third  Story.     "Totem  Pole  Land." 215 

Thirty-fourth  Story.     "How  We  Get  Our  Pink 

Fish." 220 

CHINA 

Thirty-fifth  Story.     "In  a  Chinese  Kitchen." ....  224 
Thirty-sixth  Story.     "The    Dragon-that-S wallows 

the-Sun-Every-Day."  .  . .  232 
Thirty-seventh  Story.     "  Turtle  Tails  and  Chicken 

Tales." 238 

Thirty-eighth  Story.     "A  Ride  in  a  Wheelbarrow."  245 

Thirty-ninth  Story.     "Little  Miss  Daffodil." 252 

Fortieth  Story.     "How  a  Toy  Rooster  Preached  a 

Sermon." 259 

Forty-first  Story.     "The  Little -Boy -Who -Was - 

Called-by-a-Girl's-Name."  267 
Forty-second  Story.    "What  the  Grandfather  Did 

with  the  Idols." 274 


6  Contents 

AMERICAN  INDIANS 

PAGE 

Forty-third  Story.     "The  Cradle-That-Hung-in- 

a-Tree." 279 

Forty-fourth  Story."     "One   Little,    Two   Little, 

Three  Little  Injuns."  285 
Forty-fifth  Story.     "How  the   Ducks  Got  Their 

Fine  Feathers." 291 

Forty-sixth  Story.     "The  Jesus  Road." 296 

Forty-seventh  Story.     "The  Great  Pow-wow".  . .  302 

ARABIA 

Forty-eighth  Story.     "Camel    Tails    and    Other 

Tales." 309 

Forty-ninth  Story.     "The    House-That- Wears-an- 

Overcoat." 315 

Fiftieth  Story.     "Donkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales."  322 
Fifty-first  Story.     "The  Land  Where  Jesus  was 

Born." 329 

Fifty-second   Story.     "The  Gifts  That   the  Wise 

Men  Brought." 337 


FOREWORD  TO  TEACHERS 

These  Primary  Stories  have  pur- 
posely been  kept  very  simple,  and  the 
fact  that  they  come  in  groups, — several 
about  one  country,  with  the  same  char- 
acters appearing  in  each,  will  give  every 
Teacher  a  good  opportunity  to  conduct 
a  little  review  lesson  before  telling  the 
new  story.  The  verses  and  pictures  on 
the  Take-Home  cards^  incorporate  the 
spirit  and  facts  of  each  story,  and 
schools  should  provide  a  good  sized 
manila  envelope  for  each  pupil  in  which 
the  cards  are  to  be  kept,  either  at  home 
or  at  the  school,  as  the  Teacher  thinks 
best,  so  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  they 

*  It  is  designed  that  the  pages  bearing  illustrations 
and  verses  for  each  story  shall  be  separately  printed 
on  cardboard  or  heavy  paper  in  sufficient  number  to 
enable  the  teacher  using  these  stories  to  give  one 
"Take-Home  Card"  to  each  scholar  each  Sunday. 
The  cards  are  published  by  the  Board  of  Publication 
and  Bible  School  AVork,  25  East  22nd  Street,  New 
York. 


Foreword  to  Teachers 

may  be  tied  together  into  permanent 
book  form. 

In  any  case,  there  is  a  real  value  in 
having  the  Take-Home  cards  taken 
Itome  to  be  colored,  since  in  each  home 
there  will  be  a  family  with  a  leisurely 
Sunday  afternoon  at  its  disposal,  and 
everyone  knows  how  little  ^'Aged-Six- 
to-Mne''  proudly  shows  off  every  sou- 
venir and  retells  the  stories  it  loves.  ^^ A 
little  child  shall  lead  them'' — and  how 
much  our  churches  do  need  interested 
parents ! 

Teachers  beginning  this  series  in  any 
other  month  than  January,  are,  never- 
theless, requested  to  start  in  with  the 
first  story  and  proceed  regularly  with 
each  successive  story,  since  there  is  an 
evolution  of  thought  to  be  developed 
and  those  first  lessons  about  God's 
World  and  God's  Family  are  the 
foundation  of  the  whole  course.  For 
the  stories  are  designed  not  only  to  give 
local  color  about  the  people  in  lands 
where  our  missionaries  work,  but  also 
to  create  an  attitude  toward  God's  Fam- 


Foreword  to  Teachers 

ily,  who,  because  they  know  nothing 
about  Hmi,  fear  the  peaceful,  lovely 
phenomena  w^hich  He  has  so  thought- 
fully placed  in  His  world  for  us  all. 
When  once  you  have  instilled  this  atti- 
tude in  the  minds  of  your  children,  who 
are  ^^Our  Church  of  To-morrow,"  you 
will  have  formed  the  first  incentive  for 
''giving''  and  ''going''  and  "telling": 
any  definite  reasons  for  which  are  often 
so  sadly  lacking  in  our  grown-up 
^^ church  of  to-day." 

M.  T.  A. 

Rochester,  X.  Y. 
December,  1917. 


FIEST  STORY 

THE  WORLD  GOD  MADE  FOR  US 


"And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 
The  child  upon  her  knee, 
Saying:    'The  World  is  a  Story  Book 
Thy  Father  hath  written  for  thee !' " 

(Anon.) 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  You  can  make  this  little 
l)icture  of  God's  World  very  beautiful  by  coloring 
the  trees  and  grass  green  and  the  sky  blue.  Make 
the  little  girl's  dress  the  color  you  like  best  of  all! 


^^THE   WORLD    GOD   MADE 

FOR  US'' 

Once  upon  a  time  there  were  no  trees, 
no  grass,  no  flowers,  no  vegetables,  no 
birds,  no  animals,  no  fishes,  no  men,  no 
women,  no  children— there  was  even  no 
dry  land  and  no  light,  because  once 
there  was  a  time  when  God  began  to 
make  His  World;  and  before  He  be- 
gan, there  was  nothing  anywhere. 

Nobody  knows  how  He  did  it  all,  be- 
cause there  was  no  man  living  to  see  it, 
but  many,  oh,  ever  and  ever  so  many 
years  later,  God  put  a  few  ideas  about 
how  He  made  His  World  into  the  mind 
of  a  man,  and  that  man  told  his  children, 
and  by  and  by  a  great-great-great- 
great-grandson  of  that  first  man  wrote 
down  the  few  things  God  had  put  in 
their  hearts,  and  what  he  wrote  is  in  the 
first  few  chapters  of  our  Bible.    That  is 

8 


The  World  God  Made  for  Us        9 

the  only  way  we  know  anything  at  all 
about  it. 

The  Bible  tells  us  that  after  every- 
thing was  made,  God  looked  at  each 
thing  in  His  World  and  said:  ^'It  is 
good!''  I  want  to  show  you  today  with 
what  love  and  care  God  made  every- 
thing, so  that  every  time  you  and  I  look 
at  His  trees  and  His  birds  and  His 
flowers  and  His  animals  we  can  say,  too : 
^^It  is  good!" 

Did  you  ever  think,  for  instance, 
about  how  carefully  God  made  all  the 
little  birds'?  For  one  thing,  He  made 
so  many  different  kinds— there  are  red 
birds  and  yellow  birds,  green  birds  and 
black  birds  and  blue  birds,  brown  ones 
and  white  ones,  too.  Some  birds  are 
really  perfectly  huge,  like  the  eagle, 
and  others  are  ever  and  ever  so  tiny, 
like  the  humming  bird.  God  made 
wings  for  them  so  they  could  fly  and 
bills  for  them  so  they  could  eat  and  help 
build  their  soft  nests ;  and  tucked  away 
inside  the  throat  of  each  bird,  big  or 
little.  He  put  a  song  of  some  kind — so 


10  First  Story 

that  every  day,  in  rain  or  shine,  you  can 
hear  His  birds  singing  in  their  own 
way:  ^^God  is  good!^' 

As  for  the  flowers,  you  cannot  imag- 
ine how  the  world  would  be  without 
them,  can  you?  No  dandelions— no 
roses  —  no  violets  —  no  pansies  —  no 
daisies:  my!  how  w^e  would  miss  them! 
Yet  we  hardly  take  time  to  think  how 
carefully  God  made  them  in  that  won- 
derful beginning,  how  tenderly  He 
painted  their  pretty  petals,  or  how  lov- 
ingly He  is  still  taking  care  of  them  to- 
day. He  sends  His  rain  and  His  sun 
and  His  wind  to  help  them  grow,  and 
although  God  did  not  tuck  any  song  in- 
side His  flowers,  I  cannot  help  but 
know  that  as  each  little  flower  opens  and 
fills  the  air  with  its  sweet  smell,  that  is 
its  way  of  saying:  ^^God  is  good." 

I  wonder  if  you  knew  we  could  hardly 
live  without  God's  trees'?— Not  only  be- 
cause they  are  very  beautiful  to  look  at, 
or  even  because  they  shade  us  from  the 
hot  sun,  but  because  we  use  the  trees  to 
build  our  houses  and  make  our  chairs 


The  World  God  Made  for  Us       ii 

and  tables  and  beds,  we  burn  the  trees 
to  keep  us  warm,  we  eat  the  fruit  of 
the  trees  when  we  are  hungry,  we  make 
boats  out  of  trees  when  we  sail  on  the 
water  and  cars  out  of  trees  when  we 
travel  on  the  land.    Yet  after  all  these 
years  and  years  in  which  people  have 
used  God's  trees,  there  are  still  enough 
for  years  and  years  more.     God  made 
even  the  biggest  oak  tree  to  grow  out  of 
a  tiny  acorn,  and  large  maple  trees  to 
grow  out  of  those  cunning  maple  keys 
we  love  to  play  with.     And  although 
He  did  not  put  any  song  into  the  trunks 
of  His  trees,  I  think  that  whenever  His 
wind  blows  through  their  leaves  you  can 
really  hear  them  whispering  over  and 
over:  '^God  is  good!"  ^^God  is  good!" 

As  for  His  animals  I  simply  cannot 
take  time  enough  to  tell  you  how  won- 
derfully God  made  them  and  taught 
them  how  to  live!  You  and  I  would 
miss  the  animals  if  there  were  none,  not 
only  because  we  love  to  have  pets,  but 
because  animals  give  us  food  to  eat,  and 
their  heavy  skins  of  wool  and  fur  keep 


12  First  Story 

us  warm  in  winter,  and  make  soft  covers 
for  the  books  we  read  and  the  furniture 
we  use. 

So  you  see  that  God  did  not  make  any 
of  the  wonderful  things  in  His  World 
for  Himself,  but  all  of  them  for  us,  His 
family!  So  while  He  surely  likes  the 
birds  and  flowers  and  trees  and  animals, 
it  is  only  the  children  in  His  family  that 
He  loves! 

It  is  very  much  like  what  happens 
when  mother  has  tucked  you  in  bed  and 
you  are  sound  asleep:  then  she  tiptoes 
around  the  nursery  and  picks  up  your 
little  broken  doll,  your  wooden  horse, 
your  toy  soldiers,  your  train  of  cars, 
your  Teddy  Bear — she  is  so  careful  to 
put  them  where  they  will  be  safe  for 
you  to  use  tomorrow,  not  because  she 
really  loves  the  toys,  you  know,  but  oh ! 
how  she  does  love  YOU!  God  is  just 
like  that:  He  made  His  world  full  of 
playthings  so  that  His  dear  family 
might  have  everything  they  needed  to 
make  them  happy. 


SECOND  STORY 


THE  FAMILY  GOD  MADE  FOR 
HIMSELF 


LITTLE  BROTHER  HYMN 

'If  every  little  child  could  see 
Our  Suviour's  shining  face, 
I  think  that  each  one  eagerly 
Would  run  to  His  emhrace. 

Though  lilack  the  hand,  red,  brown  or  white, 
All  hearts  are  just  the  same; 
Each  one  is  precious  in  God's  sight, 
Each  one  He  calls  by  name. 

And  those  who  hear  in  every  land 
With  loyal  hearts  and  true, 
Will  grasp  some  little  brother's  hand 
And  lead  him  onward,  too." 

(Alfeed  R.  Lincoln.) 


^^THE  FAMILY  GOB  MADE  FOR 
HIMSELF" 

Last  Sunday  I  told  you  how  God 
made  His  World  for  us,  His  Family, 
and  how  after  it  was  all  made  He  said : 
^^It  is  good!"  And  although  that  was 
thousands  and  thousands  of  years  ago 
His  birds  and  His  flowers.  His  trees 
and  His  animals  are  each  still  saying: 
^'God  is  good!"  So  now  I  want  to  tell 
you  how  God  made  His  Family,  al- 
though I  am  sure  you  know  already  that 
Adam  and  Eve  were  the  first  members 
of  His  Family,  and  that  God  gave  them 
His  World  to  play  in. 

For  a  while  they  were  yery  happy 
giving  names  to  His  birds  and  His 
flowers.  His  trees  and  His  animals,  but 
one  day  they  did  the  only  thing  that 
God  had  asked  them  not  to  do!  Then 
they  were  very  unhappy,  and  somehow 
when  Adam  and  Eve  had  sons  and 
daughters  of  their  own,  they  did  things 
that  they  ought  not  to  do;  then  when 
14 


The  Family  God  Made  for  Himself     15 

tl}ey  grow  up,  and  had  sons  and  daugh- 
ters they  also  did  things  they  ought  not 
to  do!  Although  that  was  thousands 
and  thousands  of  years  ago  the  children 
of  those  first  members  of  God's  Family 
who  are  living  in  God's  World  today 
are  still  doing  things  they  know  they 
ought  not  to  do ! 

AVh}^  I  dare  say,  you  can  think  right 
away  of  something  wrong  you  have 
done,  yourself,  can't  you?  Everybody 
can!  And  yet  God  keeps  on  loving  us 
and  giving  us  all  the  beautiful  things  in 
His  World  to  play  with.  He  even  gave 
us  His  own  dear  son  Jesus.  It  ought 
to  make  us  say  what  all  the  birds  and 
flowers  and  trees  in  God's  World  keep 
saying  day  after  day:  ^^God  is  good." 

You  and  I  do  say  it  every  Sunday  in 
Sunday  School,  and  every  night  when 
we  pray,  and  when  we  say  grace  before 
meals!  But  some  of  the  members  of 
God's  Family  never  sing  a  song  to  Him, 
or  pray  a  prayer  to  thank  Him,  because 
—now  do  li^iewl  —  hecause  they  don't 
know  anything  at  all  about  God!    Not 


i6  Second  Story 

one  thing!  They  don't  know  that  He 
made  the  World,  that  He  packed  it  full 
of  beautiful  things  for  them,  they  don't 
know  that  He  loves  them  or  that  He 
sent  Jesus  specially  to  tell  us  all  how 
much  God  loves  us.  They  never  heard 
even  a  word  about  any  of  these  things ! 

That  just  gives  you  an  idea  how  per- 
fectly huge  God's  World  is,  and  how 
many,  many  members  there  are  in  God's 
Family,  scattered  here  and  there  all 
over  His  World. 

Now,  I  wonder  which  one  of  you  here 
has  the  biggest  family  ?  Has  anyone  of 
you  two  brothers  or  sisters?  .  .  . 
Anyone  got  three  brothers  or  sisters? 
.  .  .  Four?  .  .  .  Five?  .  .  .  Six?  .  .  . 
Seven?  .  .  .  Well,  now  tell  me  this: 
do  you  all  look  exactly  alike?  Has 
everyone  in  your  family  got  brown  hair, 
(Mary)?  No?  And  has  everyone  in 
your  family  blue  eyes  like  yours, 
(Philip)?  No?  Well,  has  everyone  in 
your  family  freckles  ^ike  yours,  (Sam- 
my) ?    No?    .    .    . 

Why,  that  is  just  exactly  the  way  it 


The  Family  God  Made  for  Himself     17 

is  in  God's  great  big  Family,  scattered 
all  over  His  World :— some  of  them  who 
live  in  a  large  place  called  China  have 
yellotv  skins,  and  some  who  live  in 
another  large  place  called  Africa  have 
hlach  skins,  while  others  in  a  i^lace 
called  India  have  hroivn  skins,  and  ever 
and  ever  so  many  of  His  Family  have 
tvMte  skins,  like  yours  and  mine.  But 
the  color  of  their  skin  doesn't  make  a 
bit  of  difference  to  God! 

I  don't  believe  jour  mother  loves 
(Kate)  best  of  all  your  family  because 
she  has  golden  hair,  or  (Ruth)  best  be- 
cause she  has  blue  eyes.  Mothers  are- 
n't that  way:  somehow  they  just  can't 
help  loving  every  single  one  of  their 
children !  And  God  is  that  same  way ! 
I  really  don't  believe  He  ever  even 
notices  the  color  of  anybody's  skin.  He 
must  have  liked  all  the  different  colors, 
because  He  made  them  that  way  Him- 
self, you  know. 

Another  beautiful  thing  is  that  He 
understands  what  everybody  sai/s.  That 
is  a  little  like  your  mother,  too.    For  if 


i8  Second  Story 

there  is  a  Baby  in  your  family,  you  will 
remember  how  sometimes  the  Baby  tries 
hard  to  say  something,  and  you  simply 
can't  understand  a  single  word  he  bab- 
bles !  But  your  dear  mother  smiles  and 
says:  ^'Baby  says  he's  hungry,"  or 
*^Baby  says  he  likes  the  pretty  picture 
on  the  wall."  You  see,  God  made 
mothers  so  they  could  understand  their 
children,  just  as  He  understands  every 
single  child  in  His  Family. 

It  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference  to 
Him  if  the  yellow  members  of  His  Fam- 
ily talk  Chinese,  or  the  brown  members 
talk  Telugu,  or  if  we  white  members 
talk  English— He  understands  us  all, 
because  He  made  us.  And  down  in  my 
heart  I  feel  that  since  it  doesn't  make 
any  difference  to  God  what  language 
His  children  talk  or  what  color  their 
skin  is.  He  wouldn't  want  it  to  make 
any  difference  to  you  and  me,  either. 

But  I  do  think  we  should  all  feel  very 
sorry  that  some  of  the  members  of 
God's  Family  never  even  heard  about 
Him,  don't  you? 


THIRD  STORY 

HOW  THE  ARTIST  FORGOT 
FOUR  COLORS 


LITTLE  CRADLES 


All  over  the  earth  they  are  swaying, 
The  nests  where  the  little  ones  lie, 
And  the  faces,  black,  brown,  white  or  yellow, 
Are  watched  by  the  Father's  kind  eye. 

Because,  long  ago  in  a  manger, 

The  Dearest  of  little  ones  lay. 

Our  hearts  turn  with  prayer  to  the  Father 

To  bless  every  baby  to-day. 

(The  Missionary  Helper.) 

Something  for  you  to  do:  Paint  the  five  faces  the 
colors  they  ought  to  be. 

19 


'^HOW  THE  ARTIST  FORGOT 
FOUR  COLORS" 

Once  upon  a  time  a  very  beautiful 
church  was  being  built,  and  before  it 
was  done  all  the  people  said:  ^^Now  the 
time  has  come  to  get  the  very  finest  art- 
ist in  the  world  to  make  us  a  wonderful 
picture  in  glass,  for  our  stained  glass 
window  over  the  choir/' 

So,  as  Grown-Up  people  have  a  way 
of  doing,  they  left  it  to  a  very  wise 
Committee  to  choose  the  artist  and  the 
subject  of  the  picture.  Because  the 
name  of  the  church  was  to  be  ^^The 
Church  of  the  Christ-Child '^  they 
wanted  the  picture  to  be  about  little 
children,  so  they  chose  as  a  subject  that 
lovely  hymn  we  sometimes  sing  in  Sun- 
day-school : 

"Around  the  throne  of  God  in  Heaven 
Thousands  of  children  stand, 
Children  whose  sins  are  all  forgiven, 
A  holy,  happy  hand,  singing: 

Glory !      Glory ! 

Glory  be  to  God  on  High." 

20 


How  the  Artist  Forgot  Four  Colors     21 

You  know  how  artists  work,  don't 
you?  With  a  great  big  sheet  of  white 
canvas  and  a  queer  oval  thing  called  a 
palette  for  his  colors  with  a  hole  for  his 
thumb— just  like  the  card  pictures  you 
have  in  your  hand?  Well,  our  Artist 
painted  and  painted  and  painted,  day 
after  day,  until  he  made  what  he  knew 
was  the  very  best  picture  he  had  ever 
painted,  and  he  loved  every  inch  of  that 
canvas:  For  there  was  Jesus,  and  all 
around  Him  the  dearest,  loveliest,  hap- 
piest children  you  can  imagine,  singing 
—oh,  you  could  almost  hear  them  sing- 
ing, ^^ Glory!  Glory!  Glory  be  to  God 
on  High,''  as  they  stood  around  the 
Saviour  with  their  golden  heads  thrown 
back  and  their  sweet  white  throats  full 
of  beautiful  music ! 

The  Artist  was  perfectly  delighted 
with  his  work,  and  as  it  was  all  done,  he 
sent  word  to  the  wise  Committee  to 
come  the  next  morning  to  see  it,  to  be 
sure  they  liked  it— before  he  started  the 
glass  window"  picture,  you  understand  ? 

Then  he  went  to  bed.    And  he  went  to 


22  Third  Story 

sleep,  still  very  liappy  over  the  finished 
picture  in  his  studio.  But  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  he  was  quite  sure  he  heard 
a  little  noise  in  the  studio  where  his 
precious  picture  stood  ...  he  lis- 
tened .  .  .  yes!  he  hnew  he  heard 
sounds  there !  So  he  got  up  and  hurried 
in,  and  there  he  found  a  Stranger  with 
His  thumb  through  the  Artist's  palette, 
actually  painting  on  the  Artist's  pic- 
ture I 

The  Artist  rushed  up^  crying:  *'0h. 
Stop !  Stop !  You  are  ruining  it !  Oh, 
look  what  you  have  done  already !  You 
have  spoiled  it— and  alas!  alas!  the 
Committee  are  coming  tomorrow  morn- 
ing." 

The  Stranger  turned  calmly  around, 
and  just  as  calmly  He  said:  ^^Wlien  I 
came  in  the  room  I  saw  that  you  had 
spoiled  it  yourself,  so  I  am  merely  mak- 
ing it  right.  You  had  five  colors  left 
on  your  palette,  why  did  you  use  only 
one  color  for  the  faces  of  the  little  chil- 
dren? Who  told  you  their  faces  were 
all  white  in  Heaven?" 


How  the  Artist  Forgot  Four  Colors     23 

The  artist  looked  surprised  as  he 
tried  to  think:  "Why,  no  one  ever  told 
me,  Sir,  but  I  always  thought  of  it  that 
way!'' 

The  Stranger  smiled  kindly:  "But 
now,  of  course,  you  see  how  wrong  you 
were.  I  have  simply  used  these  other 
colors  and  made  some  of  the  faces  yel- 
low and  some  brown  and  some  red  and 
some  black,  for  these  little  ones  have 
come  from  many  lands  in  answer  to  my 
call " 

"Your  calH''  asked  the  Artist,  puz- 
zled, "What  call  was  that,  Sir?'' 

The  Stranger's  wonderful  voice  re- 
plied in  words  that  sounded  strangely 
familiar:  "Suffer  the  little  children  to 
come  unto  Me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for 
of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

Then  the  artist  knew  that  the 
Stranger  must  indeed  be  the  Lord 
Jesus  Himself,  but  even  as  he  knew 
it,  the  Stranger  was  gone,  and  the 
Artist  was  alone  facing  his  changed 
picture.  And  as  he  looked  he  smiled 
happily:    for    there    w^ere    some    dear 


24  Third  Story 

little  3"ellow  children  with  slant-up 
eyes,  and  he  knew  they  were  singing 
^^ Glory!  Glory!  Glory  be  to  God  on 
High''  in  Chinese!  And  next  to  them 
were  quaint  little  brown  children  with 
great  brown  eyes,  and  next  to  them 
black  children,  and  next  to  tlieni,  dear 
little  red  children:  the  happiest,  love- 
liest lot  of  children,  and  white  ones,  too ! 
The  Artist  looked  and  looked  and 
LOOKED,  he  was  so  pleased  picking  out 
where  the  children  came  from:  ^'You 
came  from  India,  you  dear  little  brown 
fellows  with  turbans  and  you  cunning 
brown  girls  in  gay  shawls !  You  brown 
boys  with  red  caps  are  from  Arabia; 
and  you  little  black  children— you're 
from  Africa;  while  you  red  ones  live 
near  me  right  in  America,— you're 
American  Indians."  It  seemed  as  if  he 
kept  on  standing  there  looking  and  look- 
ing, and  loving  it  better  and  better  all 
night  long  .  .  .  when  all  of  a  sudden 
lie  woke  up,  to  find  the  morning  sun 
shining  in  the  window,  and  there  he 


How  the  Artist  Forgot  Four  Colors     25 

was :  in  bed !  He  simply  could  not  un- 
derstand ! 

He  rushed  into  the  studio,  and  there 
stood  his  picture— and  all  the  little 
faces  were  white,  just  like  yours !  Then 
he  knew  he  had  had  a  dream,  but  such 
a  beautiful  dream  he  could  never  forget 
it  again. 

You  will  remember  that  the  Commit- 
tee w^ere  coming  that  morning  to  judge 
the  picture,  and  oh !  how  he  worked  try- 
ing to  make  it  look  exactly  the  way  the 
Stranger  had  made  it  look  in  his  dream : 
—and  sure  enough,  one  by  one  quaint 
little  yellow  faces  w4th  slant-up  eyes, 
and  little  brown  faces  with  great  brown 
eyes,  and  smiling  black  faces  with  smil- 
ing eyes,  began  to  appear,  and  that  pic- 
ture became  just  as  lovely  as  the  dream 
picture  had  been. 

Then  the  wise  Committee  arrived, 
and  they  loved  it,  right  off!  only  of 
course  they  used  big  long  w^ords  about 
it,  the  way  Grown-Up  people  do :  ^^Cap- 
tivating!'' and  ''Entrancing!"  ''Fas- 
cinating!" "Such  marvelous  character- 


26  Third  Story 

ization!"  And  oh  dear  me!  a  great 
many  other  equally  big  words,  but  one 
sweet  quiet  lady,  the  mother  of  lively 
little  boys  and  girls  just  like  you,  said 
with  a  happy  sigh:  ^^Why,  it's  God^s 
Family  at  home  with  Him,  isn't  if?  I 
love  it!" 

And  I  think  God's  Family  will  al- 
ways mean  all  those  five  colors  to  you 
and  me,  won't  it"? 


FOURTH  STORY 

GOD'S  HELPERS 


Two  words  in  the  Bible  are  harder  to  obey 

Than  you  ever  dreamed  of:  one's  Go,  and  one's  STAY! 

It's  hard  for  God's  Helpers  to  GO  o'er  the  sea 

And  far  from  their  families  and  loved  ones  to  be. 

It's  hard  for  God's  Helpers  to  STAY  over  there 

And  teach  heathen  people  for  Jesus  to  care. 

But  soon  they  are  busy  as  busy  can  be 

And   I  think  they  are  happier,  really,  than  we! 


2r 


^^GOD^S  HELPERS" 

Last  Sunday  you  will  remember  we 
had  a  story  about  an  Artist,  and  a 
Dream,  and  Five  Colors :  black,  brown, 
red,  yellow  and  white;  and  we  learned 
that  all  the  little  children  in  God's 
Family  belong  to  one  of  the  five  colors ! 
You  and  I  belong  to  the  white  members 
of  God's  Family,  which  makes  us 
happy,  because  more  of  the  white  peo- 
ple know  about  God  and  how  much  He 
loves  His  family  than  any  other  color 
knows.  But  there  are  still  thousands 
and  thousands  of  white  children,  and 
millions  and  millions  and  millions  of 
yellow  children  and  black  ones  and 
brown  ones  and  red  ones  who  know 
nothing  at  all  about  God,  who  never 
even  heard  how  He  made  His  World 
so  that  the  members  of  His  Family 
could  enjoy  it.  No,  they  live  oil  their 
lives  being  afraid  of  everything  out- 
28 


God's  Helpers  29 

doors  and  everything  indoors;  and  be- 
cause they  seem  to  need  to  worship 
something  they  have  carved  ugly  little 
figures  of  men  and  women  out  of  wood, 
or  chiseled  them  out  of  stone,  and  they 
kneel  down  before  these  carved  bits  of 
wood  and  stone  the  way  we  kneel  before 
God— because  they  don't  know  any 
better. 

I  am  glad  to  say  there  have  always 
been  members  of  our  church  who  have 
wanted  these  other  members  of  God's 
Family  to  know  about  Him,  just  as 
you  and  I  do,  so  they  have  done  a  very 
beautiful  thing :  they  have  raised  money 
and  sent  Christian  teachers  and  preach- 
ers way  over  across  the  seas  to  the 
place  where  the  Yellow  children  and  the 
Brown  children  in  God's  Family  live. 
So  every  single  day,  the  money  that  you 
and  I,  and  our  mothers  and  fathers 
give,  helps  one  of  our  missionaries  to 
tell  these  other  members  of  God's  Fam- 
ily about  Him. 

For  these  teachers  and  preachers  who 
go  over  the  sea  to  tell  about  God  are 


30  Fourth  Story 

called  missionaries,  and  they  are  really 
very  wonderful,  interesting  people,  al- 
though isn't  it  funny  ?— they  never  seem 
to  know  how  wonderful  or  interesting 
they  are ! 

No  indeed,  they  are  so  busy  all  day 
long  telling  about  God  that  they  never 
have  a  minute  to  think  about  themselves, 
so  I  just  want  to  tell  you  a  few  things 
myself,  so  you  can  always  remember 
that  a  missionary  is  a  very  brave,  fine 
person. 

In  the  first  place,  everybody  likes  best 
to  keep  right  on  living  with  their  own 
families  and  their  old  friends,  don't 
they?  But  our  missionaries  have  to 
kiss  their  families  goodbye,  then  they 
get  into  railroad  trains  or  into  great  big 
ships,  and  they  travel  for  days  and  days, 
sometimes  for  weeks  and  weeks,  every 
day  getting  further  and  further  from 
their  families,  and  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  members  of  God's  Family  who 
never  heard  of  Him. 

Then  when  they  get  to  the  end  of 
their  journey,  they  settle  down  to  live 


God's  Helpers  31 

among  all  these  strangers,  and  quite 
often  they  can't  understand  a  single 
word  that  is  said  to  them— because  you 
will  remember  I  told  you  the  members 
of- God's  Family  talk  in  all  sorts  of 
languages.  Of  course  God  understands 
what  they  say  perfectly,  but  our  mis- 
sionaries have  to  learn  the  new  words, 
and  it  takes  a  long  time  and  is  very 
hard.  They  make  the  funniest  mis- 
takes, sometimes,  or  really  dreadful 
mistakes,  and  perhaps  for  several  days 
they  get  homesick  and  wish  they  could 
see  their  dear  mothers  and  fathers  and 
sisters  and  brothers. 

But  God  has  a  beautiful  way  of  His 
own  in  taking  care  of  our  missionaries, 
and  they  forget  themselves  in  learning 
the  new  words  for  ^^book,"  ^ 'house," 
^4mngry,"  ''thank  you,"  "isn't  your 
baby  pretty?"  or  "won't  you  come  to 
our  little  new  church?" 

Our  missionaries  do  all  kinds  of  beau- 
tiful things  for  anybody  who  needs  their 
help,  and  sometimes  they  help  people 
whom  you  and  I  would  not  like  to  touch 


32  Fourth  Story 

or  even  look  at:  people  who  are  terribly 
sick  and  covered  with  all  kinds  of  dirt, 
but  our  missionaries  know  that  God 
loves  people  like  that  just  exactly  as  He 
loves  anybody  else,  so  they  love  them, 
too. 

So  these  other  members  of  God's 
Family  get  to  love  our  missionaries,  be- 
cause they  are  kind  and  good ;  then  little 
by  little  they  learn  about  God,  and  they 
get  to  love  Him,  because  He  is  even 
more  kind  and  good  than  our  mission- 
aries. 

Don't  you  love  to  think  that  every 
single  day  our  missionaries  are  spend- 
ing all  their  time  spreading  the  news 
that  God  is  good  and  that  He  loves 
everybody  everywhere?  I  do!  And 
every  Sunday  from  now  on  I  am  going 
to  have  a  new  story  about  some  of  these 
members  of  God's  Family  whom  oui 
Missionaries  are  helping. 


FIFTH  STORY 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  THAT 
WAS  MADE  OF  PAPER 


"The  little  children  of  Japan 
Are  fearfully  polite; 
They  always  thank  their  rice  and  tea 
Before  they  take  a  bite, 
And  say,  'you  make  us  most  content, 
O  honorable  nourishment.' 

"The  little  children  of  Japan 
With  toys  of  paper  play, 
And  carry  paper  parasols 
To  keep  the  rain  away; 
And  when  you  go  to  see,  you'll  find 
It's  paper  walls  they  live  behind!" 

(Anon.) 

33 


^^THE  LITTLE  HOUSE-THAT- 
WAS-MADE-OF-PAPER ' ' 

AwAY^  away,  oh,  ever  and  ever  so  far 
away  in  a  beautiful  country  called 
Japan,  in  a  queer  little  town,  there  is  a 
dear  little  garden  and  a  dear  little, 
queer  little  house  made  of  paper !  Such 
a  funny  little  house,  like  the  one  on  your 
cards,— for  although  the  outside  is  built 
of  wood,  the  windows  are  made  of 
paper,  and  the  walls  are  made  of  paper, 
and  the  sliding  doors  are  made  of 
paper!  You  can  imagine  how  careful 
the  Japanese  children  have  to  be,  not 
to  fall  clear  through  the  wall  into  the 
next  room ! 

The  whole  floor  is  covered  with  soft 
pretty  matting,  and  nobody  sits  on 
chairs  in  the  little  houses  that  are  made 
of  paper,  but  they  tuck  their  legs  under 
them  and  sit  right  down  on  the  floor  all 
day    long!      Grandfather    and   grand- 

34 


House  that  was  Made  of  Paper     35 

mother,  father  and  mother,  uncles  and 
aunts  and  childven— everybody  sits  that 
way;  and  at  night  they  don't  use  beds 
at  all;  no,  they  roll  themselves  up  in 
a  quilt  and  lie  right  down  on  the  mat- 
ting, and  for  pillows  they  use  hard  little 
blocks  of  wood,  which  sounds  dreadfully 
uncomfortable,  I  know,  but  everybody 
in  Japan  is  used  to  that  kind  of  pillow, 
you  see ! 

The  queer  little  house  is  very  differ- 
ent from  yours  and  mine,— for  we  have 
our  nicest  porch  and  our  parlor  right 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  don 't  we  ?  So 
it  will  be  the  first  thing  visitors  see.  But 
in  Japan  the  prettiest  part  of  the  house 
is  at  the  back  because  that  is  where  the 
dear  little  garden  is,  and  w^henever  the 
people  who  live  in  the  queer  little  house 
want  to,  they  just  begin  sliding  back  the 
paper  walls  until  all  the  rooms  become 
one  room,  opening  right  into  the  pretty 
garden.  In  this  garden  there  is  a  tiny 
lake  with  a  tiny  bridge  over  it,  and  a 
queer  stone  lantern,  and  some  lovely 
flowers.     Quite  the  loveliest  place  you 


36  Fifth  Story 

ever  saw.  It  sounds  like  a  fairy  story,  I 
know,  but  there  are  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  queer  little  houses  and  dear 
little  gardens  all  over  Japan.  So  you 
see  this  is  a  really-truly  story ! 

Nobody  dares  to  wear  shoes  in  these 
dear  little,  clean  little  houses,  for  the 
matting  must  be  kept  clean  enough  to 
sit  on,  so  that  is  the  reason  why  they 
always  leave  their  funny  wooden  shoes 
at  the  door,  and  only  wear  stockings  in 
the  house. 

Now  let's  pretend  the  father  is  hav- 
ing his  breakfast— of  soup  and  rice,  if 
you  please!  Of  course  he  is  sitting  on 
the  floor,  and  in  front  of  him  is  tho 
tiniest  little  red  lacquered  table  you 
ever  saw,  with  legs  only  four  inches 
high.  The  soup  and  rice  are  in  two  lit- 
tle red  bowls  without  handles.  He 
drinks  the  soup  right  from  the  bowl,  for 
they  don't  use  spoons  very  much  in 
Japan,  and  he  must  hold  the  bowl  in 
one  hand,  not  two,  if  he  wants  to  be 
polite— which  he  does!  But  to  eat  the 
rice  out  of  the  other  bowl  he  uses  two 


House  that  was  Made  of  Paper     37 

strange  little  sticks  called  chop-sticks, 
instead  of  a  fork. 

While  he  is  sitting  there  all  alone  at 
the  tiny  table,  a  little  servant  dressed  in 
a  kimono,  slides  back  one  of  the  paper 
doors  and  comes  in  carrying  a  'tray. 
She  puts  the  tray  before  the  father,  and 
then  she  does  the  funniest  thing:  she 
kneels  down  on  the  floor^  and  bows  her 
head  way  over  till  her  nose  bumps  the 
floor,  and  she  says  very  politely:  '^Be- 
stow your  distinguished  attention  to  my 
miserable  pickles,  O  master!"  So  the 
father  takes  a  pickle,  which  seems  a 
strange  thing  to  eat  for  breakfast,  and 
then  the  little  maid  bumps  her  nose  to 
the  ground  once  more  before  she  backs 
out  of  the  room. 

You  can  see  by  this  how  very  polite 
people  are  in  Japan,  where  everybody 
bows  to  everybody  else,  and  kneels  down 
to  do  it,  too,  quite  often. 

But  where  is  the  mother,  you  say'? 
And  why  doesn't  she  eat  breakfast  with 
him?  Well,  mothers  never  eat  with 
fathers  in  Japan,  they  politely  wait  un- 


38  Fifth  Story 

til  afterwards.  Our  missionaries  are 
changing  all  that,  and  some  of  the  men 
who  aren't  Christians  in  any  other  way 
yet,  have  decided  to  eat  with  their  wives. 
It  certainly  does  seem  much  nicer. 

In  the  room  w^here  the  father  is  eat- 
ing, there  is  a  shelf  with  a  row  of  ugly 
old  idols  on  it,  idols  with  queer  long 
heads  and  ugly  faces  that  the  family 
worship  every  day.  The  father  has 
taught  his  little  son  (Ko-i-chan)  to  bow 
down  to  these  idols  and  lay  offerings  of 
tea  and  rice  before  them  every  morning. 
You  would  not  think  it  possible  that 
such  a  wise-looking  father  could  believe 
that  these  little  brass  idols  really  take 
care  of  his  family  if  they  are  worship- 
ped every  day,  and  that  they  will  punish 
families  who  forget  to  worship  them. 

That  is  another  thing  our  missionar- 
ies are  trying  to  change  in  Japan. 


SIXTH  STORY 


Something  for  you  to  do:  You  must  paint  her 
dress  blue  and  sash  pink,  and  remember  that  "butter- 
fly" in  Japanese  is  "CHO." 

39 


^^THE   CRADLE-TH AT- WALKED- 
ON-TWO-FEET" 

In  the  queer  little,  dear  little  house 
that  was  made  of  paper  was  a  **  Cradle- 
that  -  walked  -  on  -  two  -  feet, "  but  you 
would  never,  never  guess  that  the  cradle 
was  really  a  little  girl,  a  perfectly  dar- 
ling little  girl  in  a  pink  kimono  with  a 
huge  blue  sash  and  big  wing-like  sleeves. 
Her  name  was  ' '  Cho, ' '  and  if  you  could 
have  seen  her  dancing  over  the  tiny 
bridge  in  the  tiny  garden  you  would 
not  be  at  all  surprised  to  know  that 
**Cho"  means  Butterfly,  for  she  cer- 
tainly looked  exactly  like  a  big  pink 
and  blue  butterfly  skipping  around. 
She  fitted  this  little  verse  somebody 
wrote  about  a  little  Japanese  girl : 

^^I  like  to  see  her  flutter  by. 
She  looks  so  like  a  butterfly." 

But  I  know  you  must  be  wondering 
how  a  butterfly  could  ever  be  a  cradle! 
40 


Cradle  that  Walked  on  Two  Feet     41 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  all  day 
long  the  mother  of  the  family  expected 
our  little  Butterfly  to  take  care  of  the 
wee  little  baby,  who  looked  so  exactly 
like  a  Japanese  doll  that  our  missionar- 
ies in  Japan  are  always  surprised  w^hen 
they  see  those  cute  slanting  eyes  begin 
to  blink,  and  that  cunning  wobbly  head 
bob  up  around!  Of  course  it  would 
have  kept  Butterfly  at  home  all  the  time 
taking  care  of  the  baby,  if  fathers  and 
mothers  in  Japan  had  not  long  ago 
thought  of  the  nicest  plan:  they  just 
fastened  the  baby  on  the  sister's  back 
and  there  he  slept  all  day  long.  What- 
ever his  Cradle~on-two-feet  did,  he  had 
to  do,  too !  When  she  jum]3ed  rope,  the 
baby  jumped  rope,  and  although  his 
sleepy  little  head  wobbled  around  dread- 
fully, he  never  cried  about  it.  He  just 
let  it  wobble!  Which  shows  you  how 
good  Japanese  children  are. 

Butterfly  and  all  her  friends  loved  to 
play  ball  like  this— Butterfly  would 
bounce  her  ball  \\\)  and  down,  up  and 
down,  keeping  time  by  singing  a  little 


42  Sixth  Story 

song.  Each  time  it  came  up  she  struck 
it  back  \Yith  her  hand,  but  tvhenever  site 
missed  it,  then  all  her  friends  would 
dash  up  and  mark  her  face  with  a  piece 
of  black  charcoal !  Sometimes  when  she 
had  missed  a  great  many  times  her  face 
got  as  black  as  ink ! 

One  day  the  mother  said  she  and  the 
grandmother  were  going  to  take  the 
children  to  see  the  beautiful  cherry 
blossoms  which  everyone  dearly  loves  in 
Japan.  Butterfly  put  on  her  very  pret- 
tiest kimono  and  tied  on  her  very  best 
sash,  then  she  stood  still  to  be  turned 
into  a  cradle  when  the  baby  was  tied  on 
her  back.  At  the  front  door  everybody 
slipjjed  into  their  wooden  shoes— ^geta,' 
as  they  are  called— and  the  mother  who 
never  had  worn  a  hat  in  all  her  life 
opened  a  paper  parasol  and  away  they 
all  walked  to  the  orchard  where  the 
cherry  trees  were  in  bloom. 

Their  wooden  shoes  made  the  greatest 
clatter  as  they  walked  along.  It 
sounded  like  this;  clackety-clack  I 
Clackety-clack ! 


Cradle  that  Walked  on  Two  Feet     43 

When  they  got  there,  the  air  was 
sweet  with  the  smell  of  the  cherry  blos- 
soms and  very  happy-looking  people 
were  sitting  around  looking  up  at  the 
blue  sky  through  the  branches.  Some 
of  them  even  wrote  little  verses  about 
how  much  they  loved  the  blossoms  and 
fastened  them  on  the  tree  branches. 
Butterfly  carefully  picked  a  branch  on 
which  there  w^as  a  whole  row  of  tiny 
pink  buds,  almost  ready  to  burst  into 
bloom.  She  would  carry  this  home  care- 
fully, and  would  spend  a  long  time  try- 
ing to  put  it  in  a  vase  in  the  very  pret- 
tiest way.  She  would  twist  it  this  way 
and  that  way  until  it  looked  just  right, 
then  she  would  put  the  vase  on  a  tiny 
table  that  stands  in  a  little  raised  al- 
cove in  the  nicest  room  of  their  house. 
Although  she  never  had  been  to  school, 
and  probably  might  never  go,  her 
mother  thought  it  was  just  as  necessary 
for  her  to  fix  the  flowers  beautifully  as 
your  mother  thinks  it  is  necessary  for 
you  to  learn  to  read  and  write. 

The  grandmother  and  mother  were 


44  Sixth  Story 

hungry  after  their  long  walk,  so  they 
went  into  a  teahouse  in  the  garden  and 
they  all  had  tea.  Oh,  yes,  of  course, 
even  the  baby!  You  ought  to  have 
heard  him  coo  as  he  gurgled  the  tea 
down  his  throat! 


SEVENTH  STORY 

THE  TEMPLE  THAT  HAD  FIVE 
ROOFS 


This  is  the  temple  that  hiid  the  five  roofs, 
Though  the  idol  inside  could  never  give  proofs 
That  he  heard  the  hig  hell,  that  hoonied  out  so  loud, 
Whenever  the  courtyard  was  filled  with  a  crowd. 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  Paint  the  five  roofs 
green ;  right  under  each  roof  paint  the  woodwork  yel- 
low, and  make  the  doorway  red.  You  know  about 
how  the  grass  ought  to  look,  and  the  kimonos,  too! 

45 


^^THE  TEMPLE-THAT-HAD-PIVE- 
EOOFS'' 

Last  Sunday  we  left  the  ^^Cradle-that 
-walked-on-Two-Feet, "  and  who  was 
really  our  little  Japanese  friend  Butter- 
fly, sitting  under  some  cherry  blossoms 
drinking  tea  with  her  mother  and 
grandmother  and  brother  —  and  of 
course  the  Baby,  too!  So  today  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  what  they  did  on  their 
way  home. 

They  met  the  father  just  as  they  were 
leaving  the  cherry  orchard,  and  when 
they  were  passing  a  queer,  tall,  thin 
building  that  had  five  roofs,  he  said: 
**Let  us  go  in  the  temple  and  worship 
the  honorable  Buddha/' 

So  they  went  inside  the  red  gateway, 
near  which  was  a  great  stone  trough 
full  of  clear  water,  with  a  long-handled 
wooden  dipper  floating  on  it. 

**Come  here!"  said  the  father. 
46 


Temple  That  Had  Five  Roofs      47 

So  Butterfly  and  Ko-i-chan  and  the 
mother  and  the  grandmother  all  came 
and  stood  in  a  row  beside  the  trough. 
They  held  out  their  hands,  and  the 
father  took  the  dipper,  and  poured 
water  over  them.  When  their  hands 
were  quite  clean,  they  even  rinsed  out 
their  mouths,  too!  Then  they  walked 
to  the  great  door  of  the  temple  itself, 
where  the  father  said:  ^'Now  we  must 
take  off  our  shoes.'' 

So  they  all  slipped  their  toes  out  of 
their  wooden  shoes,  and  went  into  the 
temple  just  as  the  big  bell  in  the  court- 
yard rang  out  with  a  great  hoom— boom 
—BOOM— so  loud  that  it  made  the  air 
shiver  and  shake,  and  even  the  tiny  bells 
on  the  eaves  of  the  pagoda  tinkled ! 

Inside,  the  temple  was  one  big 
shadowy  room,  with  tall  red  columns 
all  about.  There  was  another  bell  to 
ring  to  wake  up  the  brass  idol  called 
Buddha,  which  was  quite  the  roundest, 
homeliest  thing  you  ever  saw.  The 
father  bought  a  little  piece  of  paper 
from  a  priest  with  his  prayer  written 


48  Seventh  Story 

on  it,  and  did  something  that  will  seem 
too  silly  for  words  to  yon  and  me,  yet 
it  is  so  sad,  too,  that  we  simply  cannot 
laugh  about  it:  for  he  put  that  tiny 
piece  of  paper  with  his  prayer  written 
on  it  into  his  mouthy  and  he  chewed  it 
all  up  into  a  little  wet  paper  w^ad. 

Then  he  took  it  out  of  his  mouth,  and 
threw  it  at  the  idol,  and  he  believed, 
just  as  all  the  people  in  Japan  believe, 
that  if  that  little  wad  of  paper  sticks 
to  the  idol  then  the  prayer  will  be 
answered ;  but  if  it  falls  on  the  ground, 
then  they  think  the  idol  is  not  willing 
to  answer  the  prayer.  And  oh  dear! 
this  paper  -pvajev  did  fall  on  the  ground, 
and  Butterfly's  father  left  the-pagoda- 
that-had-five-roofs,  feeling  quite  un- 
happy. 

On  the  paper  prayer  was  written 
these  words :  ^ '  Grant  that  my  miserable 
family  may  dwell  in  happiness,  O 
Buddha,  and  that  my  sons  may  be  brave 
and  strong,  and  serve  their  country." 

It  seems  so  very  queer  that  he  thought 
a  big  brass  idol,  who  was  nothing  but  a 


Temple  That  Had  Five  Roofs       49 

huge  ugly  doll,  could  answer  a  prayer. 
Because  you  and  I  know  that  there  is 
only  one  thing  that  can  make  a  family 
really  happy,  and  only  one  thing  that 
can  make  sons  brave  and  strong  in  the 
finest  way,— and  that  one  thing  is  the 
love  of  Jesus  in  their  hearts. 

So  while  the  Pagoda-that-had-five- 
roofs  is  very  pretty  to  look  at,  with  its 
green  roofs  and  its  red  door,  yet  I  wish 
there  was  no  ugly  Buddha  inside  it, 
don't  you? 


EIGHTH  STORY 

THE  FISH  THAT  SWAM  IN  THE 
AIR! 


"If  I  had  my  wish 
For  each  Japanese  fish 

I  tell  you  what  it  would  be: — 
That  each  boy  in  Japan, 
Like  young  Ko-i-chan, 

Should  love  Christian-i-ty." 

Something  for  you  to  dc  :  Color  the  fish  red,  and 
choose  your  own  color  for  Ko-i-chan's  kimono  and 
sash. 

50 


^^THE  FISH-THAT-SWAM-IN- 
THE-AIR" 

The  last  few  Sundays  we  have  heard 
a  good  deal  about  little  Butterfly,  and 
the  baby  brother  that  had  his  cradle  on 
her  back,  so  today  I  thought  I  would 
tell  you  about  her  older  brother  Ko-i- 
chan,  who  wears  a  kimono  and  a  sash, 
too,  and  has  big  sleeves  like  butterfly 
wings.  These  sleeves  are  really  pockets, 
you  know,  just  imagine  having  pockets 
two  feet  long !  Ko-i-chan  keeps  lots  of 
things  in  them:  he  has  a  paper  hand- 
kerchief, a  few  marbles,  a  ball,  and 
when  he  goes  to  school  he  carries  a  tiny 
stove  in  his  sleeve,  a  very  funny  place 
for  a  stove,  don't  you  think  so"?  But, 
you  see,  there  are  no  furnaces  in  the 
houses  that  are  made  of  paper,  and  it 
gets  ever  so  cold ! 

Everybody  made  a  great  deal  of  Ko-i- 
chan  because  he  was  a  boy,  and  I 
51 


52  Eighth  Story 

thought  you  might  like  to  hear  about 
his  birthday.  There  is  one  very,  very 
queer  thing  about  birthdays  in  Japan 
—all  the  little  girls  have  theirs  on  the 
very  same  day  in  March,  and  all  the 
little  boys  have  theirs  on  the  fifth  day 
of  May!  And  even  if  there  should  be  a 
brother  and  sister  who  were  twms,  he 
would  have  to  have  his  birthday  in  May, 
while  she  had  hers  in  March ! 

You  can  easily  know  when  the  birth- 
day of  all  the  boys  in  Japan  has  come, 
because  in  front  of  every  house  where 
a  boy  lives  a  tall  pole  is  set  up,  and  at 
the  top  of  the  pole  large  paper  fish  are 
fastened,— a  fish  for  each  boy  who  lives 
in  the  house.  Each  paper  fish  has  a 
great  round  mouth  and  round  eyes,  and 
a  string  is  fastened  to  the  mouth  so  that 
when  the  wind  blows  into  the  mouth  it 
fills  the  whole  fish  until  it  bobs  around 
and  flaps  its  paper  fins  exactly  as  if  it 
were  alive  and  swimming  in  the  air! 

Of  course  it  was  the  baby  boy's  birth- 
day, too,  so  on  the  pole  in  front  of  Ko- 
i-chan's  dear  little,  queer  little  house 


Fish  That  Swam  in  the  Air         53 

was  a  huge  pole  with  two  big  paper 
fishes  swimming  around  up  in  the  air— 
whicli  sliowed  everybody  in  the  village 
that  two  boys  lived  in  the  house. 

Ko-i-chan  knew  that  the  huge  fishes 
were  the  kind  called  carps,  but  he  was 
not  at  all  sure  why  they  always  chose 
that  kind  for  the  flag  poles.  So  he  did 
just  exactly  what  you  and  I  would  do, 
he  asked  a  question : 

''Honorable  father/'  he  said,  'Svhy  do 
all  the  boys  have  carps  on  their  poles?" 

**  Because  the  carp  is  a  very  plucky 
sort  of  fish,''  answered  the  father,  '4ie 
isn't  a  lazy  fish  that  only  wants  to  swim 
down  stream  wdth  the  water.  He  swims 
up  the  rivers,  against  the  water,  and  he 
even  jiunps  up  the  water  falls.  That's 
the  way  I  want  you  to  be,  I  want  your 
life  to  be  brave  and  strong  like  the 
carp." 

Then  his  father  got  out  a  lot  of  tiny 
wooden  soldiers,  enough  for  a  whole 
army,  there  were  toy  guns,  too.  Ko-i- 
chan  set  the  soldiers  up  in  a  row  as  if 
they  were  marching.    There  were  ever 


54  Eighth  Story 

and  ever  so  many  flags,  too,  for  the 
boys'  birthday  is  always  called  the  Feast 
of  Flags.  The  Japanese  flag  is  all 
white  w^ith  a  big  red  ball  in  the  center. 

While  Ko-i-chan  was  jDlaying  with  his 
soldiers  and  his  flags  there  was  a  caller 
at  their  house  who  interested  the  whole 
family  very  much.  It  was  a  lady  with 
blue  eyes,  and  perhaps  you  can  guess 
that  she  is  our  missionary,  yours  and 
mine,  because  the  money  you  and  I  give 
for  missions  has  sent  her  to  Japan  to 
tell  the  people  there  about  God. 

Our  Mrs.  Missionary  paid  a  very 
short  call  at  the  dear  little,  queer  little 
house  that  was  made  of  paper,  partly 
because  she  had  a  great  many  other  calls 
to  make,  and  partly  because  she  simply 
could  not  get  used  to  sitting  on  the  floor ! 
But  she  stayed  long  enough  to  admire 
the  wooden  soldiers  and  the  flags  and 
the  huge  paper  fishes,  she  drank  a  cup 
of  tea  and  tied  up  all  the  cookies  that 
she  couldn't  eat  in  her  handkerchief, 
the  way  it  is  polite  to  do  in  Japan.  You 
can  just  imagine  what  fun  it  w^as  for 


Fish  That  Swam  in  the  Air         55 

her  little  daughter  when  Mrs.  Mission- 
ary came  home  from  making  calls ! 

But  before  our  missionary  left  she 
invited  them  all  to  come  to  her  house 
the  next  day.  She  bowed  very  politely  to 
the  grandmother,  the  mother,  Butterfly, 
Ko-i-chan  and  the  Baby  to  show  she 
meant  each  one  of  them.  They  bowed 
back  very  politely,  and  Butterfly  leaned 
so  far  over  she  bumped  her  nose  to  the 
ground.  Then  our  missionary  stood  up, 
and  her  knees  felt  so  stiff  and  prickly 
she  knew  they  had  gone  to  sleep.  But 
our  Japanese  family  were  far  too  polite 
to  smile.  They  kept  bowing  and  bow- 
ing, promising  to  visit  her  tomorrow, 
and  thanking  her  for  honoring  their 
poor  house  with  her  distinguished 
presence ! 


NINTH  STORY 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL  WHO 
TURNED  THE  SHOES 
AROUND 


"The  little  children  of  Japan 
Wear  mittens  on  their  feet, 
They  wear  no  hats  at  all  to  go 
A-walking  on  the  street. 
And   wooden   stilts   for   overshoes 
They  wear  out  on  the  avenues." 

Something  for  you  to  do:  This  time  you  can 
choose  any  of  the  colors  you  love  the  best  for  their 
pretty  kimonos. 

56 


^'THE    LITTLE    GIRL-WHO- 
TURNED-THE-SHOES- 
AROUND" 

Last  Sunday  jDerhaps  you  remember 
that  our  Mrs.  Missionary  paid  a  visit 
to  the  dear  little,  queer  little  house-that- 
was-made-of-paper  to  invite  all  the  fam- 
ily to  visit  her  the  next  day.  I  am  sure 
you  want  to  know  about  that  visit,  and 
about  Mrs.  Missionary  and  her  tiny 
daughter,  Miss  Missionary,  whose 
special  job  at  home  was  turning  the 
shoes  around!  Of  course  you  don't 
kiiow^  what  in  the  world  I  mean,  so  I 
will  have  to  tell  you  in  a  minute,— after 
the  company  arrives ! 

Such  scrubbing  and  rubbing  as  went 
on  before  Butterfly  and  Ko-i-chan  and 
the  Baby  were  ready!  The  Japanese 
people  are  really  very  fond  of  taking 
the  hottest  baths  you  ever  dreamed  of, 
the  water  was  so  boiling  hot  that  But- 
terfly and  Ko-i-chan  simply  squealed, 

57 


58  Ninth  Story 

They  stood  in  a  regular  barrel  full  of 
this  steaming  water,  there  was  a  little 
stove  right  in  the  side  of  the  barrel  to 
heat  it  up. 

But  finally  they  were  all  dressed  in 
their  very  nicest  kimonos  and  sashes, 
the  Baby  was  gurgling  with  delight  as 
they  slid  back  the  paper  screen  door  and 
slipped  into  their  wooden  shoes,  wait- 
ing there  for  them!  Then  clickety- 
clack,  clickety-clack,  they  began  clatter- 
ing along  the  street  toward  Mrs.  Mis- 
sionary's house;  the  Baby  went  sound 
asleep,  and  how  his  head  did  wobble 
as  his  cradle-that- walked-on-two-feet 
scuffled  along ! 

^'Here  we  are,''  said  the  mother,  so 
they  stopped  and  knocked  at  our  Mrs. 
Missionary's  front  door,  and  while  they 
waited  of  course  they  slipped  their  feet 
out  of  their  wooden  shoes,  and  left  them 
on  the  door  step,  while  they  paddled 
softly  into  the  house  in  their  stockings. 
You  should  have  seen  everybody  bowing 
to  everybody  else  and  saying  ''Oliajjo'' 
(sounds    like    ''Ohio")    which    means 


Girl  Who  Turned  the  Shoes  Around      59 

^^How  do  you  do?^'  in  Japanese.  Our 
Mrs.  Missionary  tried  to  get  them  to 
sit  on  the  chairs  and  sofa,  but  no !  they 
liked  sitting  on  the  floor  the  best,  thank 
you! 

And  meanwhile  where  is  the  tiny  Miss 
Missionary  ?  Oh,  she  is  doing  her  very 
own  little  job  out  on  the  front  door- 
step where  all  the  wooden  clogs  were 
left!  For  of  course  when  the  visitors 
slipped  out  of  their  shoes,  they  left 
them  pointing  toward  the  door,  and  our 
tiny  Miss  Missionary  was  out  there 
turning  them  around,  so  they  would 
point  toward  the  street  \—T\\Qn  when 
the  guests  were  ready  to  leave  they 
could  slip  into  their  shoes  and  walk 
right  off,  for  it  would  be  ever  and  ever 
so  impolite  in  Japan  for  guests  to  have 
to  turn  their  own  shoes  around  on  the 
doorstep.  Wasn't  that  a  funny  job  for 
little  Miss  Missionary  % 

After  it  was  all  nicely  done,  she  came 
into  the  parlor  and  bowed  to  everybody 
all  over  again,  and  felt  very  shy  to  find 
everyone  looking  at  her  light  curly  hair. 


6o  Ninth  Story 

Butterfly's  mother  said  to  our  Mrs. 
Missionary:  ^^It  must  make  you  very 
unhappy  to  have  had  the  honorable  hair 
of  your  small  daughter  fade  so  quickly, 
even  her  honorable  eyes  have  lost  their 
brown  color!' 

Then  how  little  Miss  Missionary  did 
giggle! 

'*I  growed  that  way!"  she  said,  *^I 
like  having  curly  golden  hair  and  blue 
eyes.  I  like  it  better  than  straight 
black  hair  and  brown  eyes." 

Then  Butterfly  giggled,  and  Ko-i- 
chan  giggled,  and  the  Baby  gurgled  a 
cute  Japanese  coo,  and  suddenly  every- 
body felt  very  much  at  home.  They 
wanted  to  see  how  you  played  on  that 
queer  box  called  a  piano,  so  Mrs.  Mis- 
sionary played  a  little  tune  that  you  and 
I  know  very  well,  while  Miss  Mission- 
ary sang  the  dear  words:  ^^ Jesus  loves 
me,  this  I  know.  For  the  Bible  tells  me 


so." 


When  the  song  was  over,  Mrs.  Mis- 
sionary asked  them  if  they  knew  about 
Jesus,  and  they  said  no  they  had  never 


Girl  Who  Turned  the  Shoes  Around      6i 

even  liem^d  the  name  before.  Think  of 
that! 

So  then  Mrs.  Missionary  spent  a 
whole  hour  telling  them  about  Christ- 
mas, Jesus'  Birthday,  and  about  how 
the  Baby  in  the  manger  grew  up,  and 
how  much  good  He  did— dear  me!  the 
grandmother  and  the  others  could  have 
listened  forever! 

Our  Mrs.  Missionary  promised  to 
come  very  soon  to  tell  them  more  about 
Jesus,  she  asked  them  to  come  to  our 
church,  too,  and  then  just  before  they 
left  she  went  into  another  room  and 
wrapped  a  Japanese  Bible  in  a  square 
colored  silk,  like  a  handkerchief,  the 
way  Japanese  people  wrap  their  pack- 
ages, and  she  gave  it  to  the  grand- 
mother, with  a  bow :  ^ '  This  is  the  honor- 
able book  that  tells  about  Jesus.  Per- 
haps you  will  like  to  read  it  when  you 
get  home." 

The  grandmother  sighed  as  she  bowed 
politely:  '^I  do  not  know  how  to  read, 
and  my  daughter  cannot  read,  but  Ko-i- 
chan  goes  to  school,  he  shall  read  to  us." 


62  Ninth  Story 

Then  little  Miss  Missionary  piped 
up:  '^Oh,  mother  dear,  do  let's  have 
Butterfly  come  to  our  school  every  day, 
then  she  won't  have  to  grow  up  and  not 
know  how  to  read!" 

Everybody  liked  the  idea,  and  if  But- 
terfly's father  would  only  say  ^^es,'' 
then  perhaps  Butterfly  could  start  in 
the  very  next  day.  So  they  bowed  to 
each  other  again  and  went  to  the  door 
where  their  shoes  were  politely  turned 
'round  facing  the  street! 


TENTH  STORY 

THE  MAN  WHO  WAS  A  HORSE 
ALL  DAY 


kii^iiv^ 


This  is  the  man  who  played  horse  all  day:— 
A  queer  kind  of  horse,  for  he  often  ^Yould  say: 
"Where  will  you  go?"  and  "How  long  will  you  stay?' 


Something  for  you  to  do  :  Paint  the  wheels  of  the 
little  carriage  red  and  the  rest  of  it  brown.  Choose 
any  color  you  like  for  the  children's  kimonos.  The 
"Horse"  usually  wears  a  blue  coat  and  a  yellow  straw 
hat! 


63 


*^THE  MAN-WHO-WAS-A-HORSE- 
ALL-DAY'' 

Do  you  remember  the  story  we  had 
last  Sunday  about  Butterfly  and  Ko-i- 
chan  visiting  our  Mrs.  Missionary,  and 
how  it  was  decided  that  Butterfly 
should  go  to  our  very  own  school,  the 
school  which  your  money  and  my  money 
pays  for  in  Japan? 

Today  your  picture  shows  Butterfly 
and  Ko-i-chan  on  their  way  to  school 
in  a  very  funny-looking  carriage, 
drawn  by  a  man-who-plays-horse-all- 
day!  The  funny  carriage  is  called  a 
jinrikisha— will  you  please  say  that 
word  with  me:  ^^jin-rik-isJia'^—Sind  it 
only  holds  one  grown-up  person,  al- 
though there  is  plenty  of  room  for  two 
children,  as  you  see. 

The  father  decided  it  was  a  great  deal 
too  far  for  Butterfly  to  walk  the  first 

64 


Man  Who  Was  a  Horse  All  Day      65 

few  days,  so  he  hired  a  jinrikisha,  and 
off  the  children  started,  as  happy  as 
happy  could  be ! 

The  man -who -was- a -horse -all -day 
trotted  along  and  felt  happy,  too ;  really 
he  was  an  unusually  nice  kind  of  a 
horse,  because  when  you  talked  to  him, 
he  could  talk  hack! 

Butterfly  said  to  him:  ^^You  may 
drive  me  to  the  Christian  School— I 
really  think  I  am  going  to  learn  to 
read!    That  will  be  wonderful." 

Then    the    man-who-was-a-horse-all- 
day  said  over  his  shoulder:  ^'I  am  a 
Christian  now'  and  I  have  one  poor  lit-- 
tie  daughter  in  that  school  myself,  she 
can  read  and  sing  as  well  as  any  boy!" 

^*And  does  she  know  the  story  about 
Jesus  which  the  honorable  white  teacher 
tells?" 

*^0h,  yes!''  answered  the  nice  man- 
who-was-a-horse-all-day,  ^^she  knows  all 
the  stories  about  Jesus,  she  comes  home 
from  school  and  tells  her  mother  and 
me  all  about  Him,  so  we  know  the 
stories,  too.    Now  that  w^e  belong  to  the 


66  Tenth  Story 

Christian  Church  we  are  the  happiest 
family  in  all  Japan ! ' ' 

^' We  are  r-ather  happy  in  our  family, 
I  guess/'  said  Butterfly,  ^^all  but  father. 
For  the  other  day  his  paper  prayer  did 
not  stick  to  the  honorable  Buddha." 

Then  the  man-who-was-a-horse-all- 
day  said:  ^^When  you  learn  more  about 
Jesus,  you  must  tell  your  honorable 
father,  then  he  "/ill  know  how  foolish 
paper  prayers  and  stone  idols  are.  I 
used  to  pray  to  the  idols,  too,  until  my 
little  girl  learned  about  Jesus  at 
school." 

All  this  interested  Butterfly  very 
much,  and  when  they  got  to  the  school 
she  was  simply  jumping  up  and  down 
on  the  seat!  But  once  inside  the  big 
strange  building,  she  felt  very  shy,  for 
there  were  so  many  little  girls  all  look- 
ing at  her.  She  fell  on  her  knees  and 
bowed  way  over  until  her  nose  bumped 
the  floor  before  our  Miss  Missionary, 
the  teacher.  Then  all  the  girls  sang  her 
a  welcome  song,  and  that  was  the  way 
her  wonderful  morning  began. 


Man  Who  Was  a  Horse  All  Day      67 

In  Japan  they  learn  arithmetic  with 
heads  strung  on  a  tvire;  and  they  learn 
to  write  with  a  hriisli,  instead  of  a  pen; 
and  the  writing  paper  comes  in  i^olls, 
instead  of  sheets  as  ours  does.  Butter- 
fly was  very  anxious  not  to  make  any 
mistakes,  but  of  course  she  did,  because 
she  had  never  been  in  school  before. 
The  little  girl  who  sat  next  to  her  on  the 
floor  was  the  daughter  of  the  nice  man- 
who-was-a-horse-all-day,  and  because 
she  was  a  Christian  now  she  never 
laughed  at  any  of  these  mistakes,  or  at 
the  funny  big  blots  she  made,  but  she 
tried  very  hard  to  help  Butterfly. 

After  school  our  Miss  Missionary,  the 
teacher,  rode  home  with  Butterfly  in  the 
queer  grown-up  baby-carriage,  called  a 
jinrikisha,  pulled  by  the  man-who-was- 
a  -  horse  -  all  -  day.  Miss  Missionary 
stopped  at  Butterfly's  house,  and  left 
some  colored  picture  cards,  the  kind  we 
have  in  Sunday  School;  she  told  the 
grandmother  and  mother  what  the  pic- 
tures were  about:  This  one  was  the 
shepherds  looking  at  the  Baby  Jesus, 


68  Tenth  Story 

who  was  born  on  Christmas  Day;  this 
one  was  Jesus  after  he  was  grown  up, 
healing  sick  people;  and  this  one 
showed  him  blessing  little  children. 
They  all  loved  the  stories  and  the  pic- 
tures. I  can't  help  but  be  glad  we  have 
our  very  own  missionaries  in  Japan— 
aren't  you  glad,  too? 


ET.EVBNTH  STORY 

THE    FAIRY    MIRROR 


"Here  is  the  secret  this  story  should  tell, 
I  hope  you  have  learned  it  already  quite  well: — 
We  look  like  the  people  we  care  for  the  most 
When  about  our  own  selves  we  see  nothing  to  boast.' 


69 


^^THE  FAIRY  MIRROR" 

Once  in  a  while  it  rains  very,  very 
hard  in  Japan,  oh  dreadfully  hard,  and 
because  their  umbrellas  were  made  of 
paper  and  the  skirts  of  their  kimonos 
were  long  enough  to  get  wet,  both  But- 
terfly and  Ko-i-chan  had  to  stay  home 
from  school  one  very  rainy  day.  Their 
faces  looked  perfectly  horrid:  there 
were  frowns  and  scowls  and  tears  and 
pouts  all  over  them,  and  they  cried  so 
hard  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  rained  in- 
doors about  as  hard  as  it  did  out-doors! 
I  suppose  you  have  made  that  kind  of 
a  rain-storm  yourselves  —  ages  ago, 
haven't  you  ? 

Then  up  spoke  the  nice  Japanese 
grandmother:  ^^ Suppose  I  tell  you  a 
fairy  story,"  said  she;  and  will  you  be- 
lieve me,  the  frowns  and  the  pouts  and 
the  scowls  and  the  tears  faded  away  in 
70 


The  Fairy  Mirror  71 

exactly  two  seconds!  Queer,  wasn't  it? 
This  was  the  way  she  told  them  the 
story  of  the  Fairy  Mirror,  which  all 
little  Japanese  children  love : 

'^Honorable  one,  if  you  will  lend  me 
your  distinguished  attention,  I  will  fill 
your  worshipful  ears  with  the  story  of 
a  happy  little  family,  who  lived  in  a 
dear  little,  queer  little  house  next  door 
to  a  pagoda  that  had  five  roofs.  This 
was  many,  many  years  ago.  Whenever 
the  winds  of  heaven  blew,  the  bells  on 
the  eaves  of  the  pagoda  tinkled  softly, 
and  the  little  family  were  very  happy. 
There  was  a  mother  and  father  and  a 
little  girl  baby. 

^'One  day  as  the  mother  sat  in  her 
tiny  garden  beside  the  tiny  lake,  her 
husband  walked  into  the  garden  in  a 
great  hurry, — he  fairly  skipped  over 
the  little  white  stepi3ing  stones.  This  is 
what  he  said :  ^  The  distinguished  Head 
of  my  business  has  ordered  me  to  leave 
this  day  on  a  business  trip  to  the  Great 
City.  I  have  rushed  home  to  say  good- 
bye to  you  and  our  little  one.' 


72  Eleventh  Story 

*'He  never  had  left  her  before,  and 
so  many  tears  came  into  her  eyes  that 
she  could  hardly  see  him  as  he  took  the 
baby  into  his  arms  and  whispered  good- 
bye to  them  both.  Then  he  hurried 
away  down  the  village  street,  away  and 
away,  until  his  figure  got  smaller  and 
smaller  in  the  distance. 

''  ^But  he  w^ill  come  back  before  long,' 
she  whispered  to  the  baby  she  had  tied 
on  her  back,  and  the  baby  wobbled  its 
head  to  say  ^yesM  In  a  week  he  did 
come  back  again  from  the  Great  City, 
with  many  wonderful  stories  of  the  mar- 
velous things  he  had  seen  there:  great 
big  houses,  big  parks,  hundreds  of  jin- 
rikishas  in  the  streets,  huge  stores  full 
of  beautiful  things. 

*^  ^See  what  I  bought  for  you!'  he 
said,  handing  her  a  present  tied  up  in  a 
big  handkerchief.  She  opened  it 
quickly,  but  could  not  imagine  what 
such  a  strange  thing  was:  for  on  one 
side  it  was  silver,  the  handle  was  silver, 
while  the  other  side  was  bright  and 
smooth  and  clear. 


The  Fairy  Mirror  73 

*'  'Look  in  it!'  he  said,  smiling.  So 
she  looked  in.  Then  he  asked  her  what 
she  saw.  ^Oh,  I  see  a  beautiful  lady,  a 
very  beautiful  lady,— indeed,  I  never 
saw  such  a  pretty  face  or  such  smiling 
eyes  or  such  a  lovely  blue  kimono,  al- 
though it  really  seems  to  be  just  the 
color  of  the  one  I  have  on,  isn't  that 
stranger 

*^Then  how  he  did  laugh!  For  per- 
haps you  have  guessed  that  his  present 
was  a  mirror;  but  at  that  time  very 
few  people  in  Japan  had  ever  seen  a 
looking-glass,  so  that  is  why  she  did 
not  know  that  the  beautiful  lady  she 
saw  in  the  glass  was  not  a  picture,  but 
her  very  own  self!  Of  course  he  told 
her  her  mistake,  and  then  she  laughed, 
too;  only  after  that  she  got  into  the 
habit  of  carrying  the  precious  mirror 
in  the  long  sleeve  of  her  kimono,  so  that 
she  could  look  at  herself  just  as  often 
as  she  wanted.  Every  time  she  looked 
at  herself  she  thought:  ^I  certainly  am 
very  beautiful ! '  Then  one  day  she  said : 
'I  will  put  the  mirror  away  for  I  am 


74  Eleventh  Story 

getting  vain,  and  the  gods  will  be  en- 
vious of  me. ' 

' '  So  she  hid  the  mirror  away,  and  for 
years  and  years  she  forgot  all  about  it. 
Her  baby  grew  up  into  a  dear  little 
girl,  and  then  into  a  beautiful  young 
lady,  who  looked  exactly  like  Iter 
mother,  altJiougli  she  never  knetv  it! 
And  they  were  all  very  happy. 

^^But  the  moon  is  not  always  round, 
and  flowers  are  not  always  in  blossom, 
and  sorrow  came  to  this  family,  for  the 
dear  little  mother  was  so  very  sick  that 
the  doctor  Hhrew  away  the  spoon,' 
which  means  he  gave  up  hope  of  her 
getting  well  again.  They  offered  rice 
and  incense  to  the  idol,  but  it  did  no 
good.  So  the  mother  said  to  her 
daughter:  ^Cherished  one,  I  shall  soon 
have  departed  to  live  with  my  ancestors, 
when  I  am  dead  I  know  you  will  miss 
me,  so  I  am  going  to  leave  this  present 
with  you.  When  I  am  gone  and  you  are 
lonely,  look  at  it  and  you  will  see  my 
face.' 

^^So  after  the  dear  little  mother  had 


The  Fairy  Mirror  75 

died,  the  daughter  looked  every  day  at 
the  present  her  mother  left  her,  which 
was  the  old,  old  mirror,  of  course.  And 
there  she  always  saw  her  mother's  dear 
face.  Sometimes  when  she  felt  sad,  her 
mother's  face  looked  sad,  too;  when  she 
was  smiling,  her  dear  mother's  face 
smiled,  too.  Only  instead  of  looking 
pale  and  sick  and  tired  the  way  her 
mother  had  looked  for  years,  the  face 
she  saw  was  lovely  and  rosy.  The 
young  girl  whispered  to  it:  ^Cherished 
mother,  it  makes  happiness  bloom  in 
my  mind  to  see  you  looking  so  well. 
I  miss  you,  dear  one,  but  every  day  I 
arrange  the  flowers  and  serve  the  tea 
the  way  you  taught  me.' 

**The  father  heard  his  daughter  talk- 
ing to  some  unseen  person,  so  one  day  he 
said:  ^To  whom  are  you  talking,  my 
daughter  ? ' 

*^  'I  am  talking  to  the  honored 
mother,'  she  said,  ^she  gave  me  this  mir- 
ror, and  every  day  I  look  in  and  see  her, 
and  I  talk  to  her.  Although  I  never  can 
hear  her  answer  me,  I  know  she  tries, 


76  Eleventh  Story 

for  I  see  her  lips  moving  and  her  eyes 
smiling  at  me.' 

^'The  father  patted  her  on  the  head, 
but  he  did  not  tell  her  that  the  lovely 
face  she  saw  in  the  mirror  was  her  very 
own,  growing  more  and  more  like  her 
dear  mother's  every  day,  because  she 
was  trying  so  hard  to  live  as  her  mother 
wanted  her  to  live." 

When  the  grandmother  finished  But- 
terfly said:  ''Oh,  then  it  wasn't  a  fairy 
mirror,  at  all,  was  it*?" 

^'Of  course  not!"  said  Ko-i-chan,  ''It 
was  just  an  every  day  mirror,  but  it 
worked  magic  on  her,  didn't  it,  honor- 
able grandmother. ' ' 

"Indeed  it  did,"  said  the  grand- 
mother nodding.  "And  she  never  grew 
vain  or  conceited,  either." 


TWELFTH  STORY 

MONKEY  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES 


These  are  the  children  in  lovely  Japan — 
Butterfly,   Baby   and   nice   Ko-i-chan, 
About  whom  I've  told  you  as  well  as  I  can. 


77 


^^  MONKEY  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

I  AM  sure  you  have  been  to  the  Zoo 
and  seen  the  funny  little  monkeys  jump- 
ing around  and  looking  so  sober  and 
wise ;  but  perhaps  you  never  knew  that 
over  in  Japan,  where  Butterfly  and  Ko- 
i-chan  live,  there  are  monkeys  hop- 
ping around  in  the  bamboo  trees  in  their 
garden,  chattering  away  in  monkey 
language,  day  and  night. 

*^I  wish  I  knew  what  the  monkeys 
talked  about  all  the  time,''  said  Butter- 
fly to  her  grandmother. 

Without  saying  a  word  the  grand- 
mother opened  a  cabinet  and  took  out 
three  carved  monkeys  which  she  gave 
to  Butterfly.  One  monkey  had  his 
hands  over  his  eyes,  which  meant  ''See 
no  evir';  the  second  monkey  had  his 
hands  over  his  ears,  which  meant  ''Hear 
no  evil"  5  and  the  third  monkey  had  his. 
78 


Monkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales     79 

hands  over  his  mouth  which  meant 
'^ Speak  no  evil/' 

Ko-i-chan  and  Butterfly  loved  the 
three  monkeys,  and  the  grandmother 
said  she  hoped  they  would  always  re- 
member to  do  what  the  monkeys  taught ; 
never  to  see  anything  bad  unless  they 
could  do  something  to  help,  never  to 
hear  anything  untrue  unless  they  could 
correct  it,  and  above  all,  never  to  say 
anything  untrue  themselves. 

Well,  one  day  as  Butterfly  was  walk- 
ing home  from  our  very  own  mission 
school  she  passed  a  queer  ugly  idol  sit- 
ting in  a  shrine  beside  the  road,  and 
there  she  saw  her  mother  kneeling  and 
putting  a  tiny  little  apron  of  the  baby's 
around  the  neck  of  the  idol.  She  piled 
up  some  small  stones  at  the  idol's  feet, 
crying  big  hot  tears  all  the  time. 

**Why,  honorable  mother,"  said  But- 
terfly, *^what  can  be  the  matter^  What 
are  you  doing  all  this  for?" 

^^Our  precious  baby  is  terribly  sick," 
cried  the  mother,  ^^I  do  not  think  he  can 
live,  so  I  am  giving  the  honorable  idol 


8o  Twelfth  Story 

these  playthings  to  amuse  him.  Per- 
haps he  may  enjoy  making  our  bal^y 
well/'  Then  she  rubbed  the  stomach  of 
the  stone  idol  because  that  was  where 
the  baby  at  home  was  sick. 

Butterfly  knew  that  a  little  Japanese 
girl  should  never  tell  her  mother  that 
she  was  doing  wrong,  but  Butterfly 
knew  about  the  real  God  now  and  about 
Jesus,  and  she  knew  this  idol  was  noth- 
ing at  all.  Yet  she  thought  it  w^ould  be 
impolite  to  tell  her  mother.  So  she 
looked  at  the  ugly  stone  idol  called  Jizo 
Sama,  and  thought  how  silly  he  looked 
all  dressed  up  in  the  baby's  apron,  then 
she  heard  a  cliattering  up  in  the  tree 
above  her.  She  looked  up  and  there  sat 
a  wise  old  monkey  looking  down  at  her. 
He  scratched  his  head,  and  then  he  put 
his  hands  over  his  eyes. 

**See  no  evil!"  Butterfly  whispered 
to  herself,  then  she  remembered  her 
grandmother  had  ^aid: 'Unless  yott  can 
help/' 

So  Butterfly  felt  suddenly  very 
brave:  ^^Dear  honorable  mother,''  she 


Monkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales     8i 

said,  ^^at  the  mission  school  we  learn 
that  these  idols  are  no  good  at  all,  be- 
cause they  are  only  wood  and  stone. 
The  true  God  can't  be  seen,  but  ile 
hears  prayers.  He  doesn  't  like  to  see  us 
worshiping  idols.''  Then  down  in  her 
heart  she  prayed  a  little  prayer  that 
Jesus  would  teach  them  somehow  the 
way  to  make  their  dear  baby  get  well. 

The  mother  walked  sadly  home ;  but 
there  in  front  of  their  dear  little,  queer 
little  house  was  our  Mrs.  Missionary 
just  getting  out  of  her  jinrikisha,  which 
was  pulled  by  the  man-who-was-a-horse- 
all-day.  Ko-i-chan  had  run  over  to  her 
house  to  get  her,  and  here  she  was  with 
hot  water  bottles  and  some  bottles  of 
medicine!  The  mother  told  what  she 
had  done  for  the  baby— about  the  apron 
on  the  idol,  and  the  stones,  and  rubbing 
the  idol's  stomach. 

^^Not  a  bit  of  good!"  said  our  Mrs. 
Missionary,  rushing  in  where  the  poor 
pale  baby  was  having  a  dreadful  time, 
wailing  the  thinnest,  forlornest  little 
wail  you  ever  heard. 


82  Twelfth  Story 

Now  our  Mrs.  Missionary  knew  a 
good  deal  about  babies,  because  God  had 
given  her  some  of  her  very  own  to  bring 
up,  and  she  had  lived  in  Christian  lands 
where  most  mothers  learn  the  right  way 
to  bring  babies  up.  For  it  really  is  very 
queer,  but  the  mothers  who  live  in  lands 
where  people  are  not  Christians  make 
dreadful  mistakes  in  bringing  up 
babies ! 

So  first  of  all  our  Mrs.  Missionary 
asked  what  the  baby  had  had  to  eat. 
When  she  found  he  had  had  candied 
peas  and  beans,  a  pickle  and  some  tea, 
she  sighed  a  funny  hopeless  sigh,  the 
way  you  do  when  you  wish  people  had 
better  sense,  only  you  don't  dare  tell 
them  so. 

She  filled  the  hot- water  bottle,  and 
gave  the  baby  some  medicine,  she  softly 
rubbed  the  baby  and  sang  a  nice  sleepy 
lullabye,  very  soft  and  low: 

^^Away  in  a  manger,  no  crib  for  a  bed. 
The   little   Lord   Jesus   lay  down   his 
sweet  head, 


Monkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales     83 

The  stars  in  the  sky  looked  down  where 

he  lay. 
The  little  Lord  Jesus,  asleep  on  the 

hay!" 

Over  and  over  she  crooned  it,  soft 
and  drowsy;  the  nice  hot  water  bottle, 
and  the  medicine  and  that  gentle  voice, 
quieted  the  baby  and  he  went  to  sleep. 
Then  he  had  more  medicine,  and  more 
rubbing— oh  very  gentle  rubbing. 

The  grandmother  and  the  mother 
thought  it  was  perfectly  wonderful,  but 
our  missionary  knew  it  was  just  plain, 
everyday  Common-sense,  the  kind  your 
mother  and  my  mother  had,  because 
they  lived  in  a  Christian  land.  So  right 
then  and  there  she  said :  ' '  Once  a  week 
at  our  church  I  am  going  to  have  a 
mother's  meeting,  so  you  can  learn  these 
simple  things  to  do  for  your  baby.  Will 
you  comeT' 

Of  course  they  said  ^'Yes,''  and  they 
said  they  would  bring  their  neighbors, 
too. 

Just  then  the   father   came   in  the 


84  Twelfth  Story 

room.  When  he  saw  our  Mrs.  Mission- 
ary he  reached  in  his  big  sleeve  and 
pulled  out  the  Bible  which  she  had 
given  the  family  weeks  before  when 
they  visited  her. 

**I  have  been  reading  this  book,"  he 
said,  ^^and  I  believe  it.  I  have  no  use 
for  our  idols  any  more.  I  desire  that 
we  shall  all  be  Christians." 

You  never  saw  a  happier  family. 
Ko-i-chan  shouted  '^Banzai^'  which 
means  ^^ Hurrah"  in  English.  But  all 
the  time  Butterfly  remembered  the 
wise  old  monkey  with  his  hands  over 
his  eyes,  who  had  dared  her  to  ^^  speak 
up!" 


THIRTEENTH  STORY 

COTTON  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES 


"Jemima's  face  is  black  as  ink, 
Her  hair  is  curled  with  many  a  kink, 
And  yet  she's  very  nice,  I  think! 
It's  no  surprise  to  me  that  she 
Is  just  as  bright  as  bright  can  be. 
In  school  she  learns  the  very  rules 
They  teach  in  all  the  white  folks'  schools. 


Something  for  you  to  do  :  I  think  Jemima  would 
like  to  have  you  paint  her  dress  red.  I  am  afraid  the 
patch  is  another  color,  though !  You  can  decide  what 
you  think  it  is! 

85 


*^  COTTON  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

There  are  some  members  of  God's 
Family  whose  skins  are  very,  very 
black,  who  live  here  in  America  with  us, 
down  South  where  the  cotton  grows.  I 
suppose  every  one  of  you  has  seen  a 
negro,  for  that  is  the  name  we  give  to 
these  black  members  of  God's  Family. 
Sometimes  I  have  heard  very  rude  boys 
and  girls  call  these  black  people  ^^  nig- 
gers," but  I  don't  believe  that  you  and 
I  will  ever  want  to  make  the  least  bit  of 
fun  of  them  as  long  as  we  remember  that 
God  loves  them  just  exactly  as  well  as 
He  loves  you  and  me,  and  that  He  likes 
the  color  of  their  skin  just  as  well  as  he 
likes  ours. 

Down  South  there  are  really  more 
negroes  than  white  people,  and  lots  of 
them  work  on  great  big  farms  called 
plantations  where  the  cotton  plants  are 
raised. 

86 


Cotton  Tails  and  Other  Tales       87 

Once  there  was  a  cute  little  black  girl 
named  Jemima  whose  mother  was  busy 
all  day  picking  off  the  soft  white  wads 
of  cotton.  Jemima  loved  to  sit  in  the 
shade  of  a  big  tree  and  watch  her  mother 
and  the  other  women.  They  wore  red 
bandana  handkerchiefs  tied  on  their 
heads,  and  all  morning  long  she  could 
see  red  heads  bobbing  up  and  down. 
Every  day  she  tried  to  make  friends 
with  two  shy  little  molly  cottontail  rab- 
bits who  lived  in  the  bushes  near  there. 

*^You  jes'  come  here  and  play  with 
me,  you  molly  cottontails,  you!''  she 
begged.  But  the  minute  the  rabbits 
heard  her  voice,  off  they  scampered  with 
such  big  leaps  that  all  she  could  see  of 
them  was  their  funny  little  white  tails. 

One  morning  a  very  nice  white  lady 
walked  by.  She  stopped  to  watch  the 
pickers.  When  she  saw  Jemima,  she 
asked  her  to  go  and  get  her  one  of  the 
little  cotton  balls,  so  over  Jemima 
trotted.  When  she  came  back,  the  lady 
said:  ^^I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't  like  to 


88  Thirteenth  Story 

come  to  my  school  with  me  this  morn- 
ingr' 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Jemima's 
black  eyes  roll  around  in  excitement  and 
her  white  teeth  show  as  she  grinned. 

^^Deedy  I  would  like  to !  Yes  ma'am! 
You  jes'  wait  till  I  go  tell  mammy.'' 

So  she  skipped  over  to  the  red  ban- 
dana handkerchief  she  could  see  way 
off,  which  she  knew  belonged  to  her 
mother.  Her  mother  stood  up  straight 
a  minute,  to  rest  her  tired  back. 

^^ That's  real  nice  of  the  lady,  I'm 
shore,  Jemima.  Mind  you  be  a  good 
gal!    Goodbye  Honey!" 

I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  have  liked 
that  schoolhouse  very  much,  although  it 
seemed  very  fine  to  Jemima  and  the 
other  little  black  girls  and  boys.  They 
had  to  sit  on  very  hard  benches  so  far 
from  the  floor  that  their  short  little  legs 
dangled  way  up  in  the  air !  There  were 
no  desks,  either,— but  then,  none  of  the 
little  black  girls  and  boys  knew  that  you 
ought  to  have  desks  in  school,  so  they 
were  very  happy  without  them ! 


Cotton  Tails  and  Other  Tales      89 

You  see,  our  Government  does  not 
have  schools  in  little  out-of-the-way  vil- 
lages where  the  plantations  are,  so  this 
missionary  teacher  was  starting  a  school 
-for  her  church.  I  think  when  the  mem- 
bers of  her  church  at  home  know  more 
about  what  she  is  doing  they  will  want 
to  send  her  money  right  away  for  desks 
and  chairs  with  short  legs! 

The  day  Jemima  went  there  the 
teacher  said  she  was  going  to  tell  them  a 
story  about  what  the  cotton  plant  grew 
into,  so  she  put  down  on  the  table  the 
soft  white  cotton  ball  which  Jemima 
had  picked  for  her.  Then  she  put  down 
a  spool  of  white  cotton,  then  a  piece  of 
white  muslin,  then  a  piece  of  paper,  then 
a  Bible. 

She  had  some  verses  written  on  the 
blackboard,  which  she  now  read  out 
loud: 

^^Sing,  oh,  sing,  for  the  cotton  plant, 
Bravely  may  it  grow. 
Bearing  in  its  seeded  pod 
Cotton  white  as  snow ! 


90  Thirteenth  Story 

Spin  the  cotton  into  thread; 
Weave  it  on  the  loom; 
Wear  it  now,  dear  little  child 
In  your  happy  home. 

When  youVe  worn  it  long  and  well 
Will  it  worthless  be  ? 
No,  a  book  made  from  this  dress 
You  yet,  in  time,  may  see. 

Sort  the  rags  and  grind  the  pulp; 
Make  the  paper  fair; 
Now  it  only  waits  for  words 
To  be  printed  there. 

Thoughts  from  God  to  man  sent  down 
May  these  pages  show. 
Sing,  oh !  sing,  for  the  cotton  plant ! 
Bravely  may  it  grow!'' 

When  she  got  through,  every  child 
there  understood  how  the  cotton  balls 
their  dear  black  mammies  were  pick- 
ing out  in  the  fields  would  be  turned 
into  thread  some  day,  and  the  thread 
would  be  woven  into  cloth  for  dresses, 


Cotton  Tails  and  Other  Tales       91 

and  when  the  dresses  were  nothing  but 
rags,  the  rags  would  be  made  into  paper 
and  on  the  paper  would  be  printed  the 
Bible. 

I  think  it  was  a  beautiful  thing  for 
this  missionary  to  teach  these  cute  little 
black  children  every  day,  don't  you? 


FOURTEENTH  STORY 

THE  HOUSE  THAT  WAS  BUILT 
IN  HALF  AN  HOUR 


"In  order  to  have  n  roof  overhead, 

I'm  built  ill  a  liiirry,"  the  little  house  said, 

"The  days  are  so  hot,  and  the  nights  are  so  warm, 

I'm  really  most  used  in  time  of  a  storm." 


Something  for  you  to  do  :  Mud  walls  are  brown 
in  color,  and  palm  leaves  are  green,  so  now  you  know 
just  how  to  paint  this  picture,  I  think ! 


92 


^'THE  HOUSE-THAT- WAS-BUILT- 
IN-H  ALE- AN-HOUR ' ' 

OxLY  a  few  of  the  Black  members  of 
God's  Family  live  in  America,  like  Je- 
mima about  whom  I  told  vou  last  Sun- 
day;  all  the  rest  of  the  Black  Eamily, 
oh,  millions  and  millions  of  them,  live 
far  across  the  sea  in  a  big  country  called 
Africa.  Although  the  Black  people  in 
Africa  look  exactly  like  the  Black  people 
in  America,  whom  you  and  I  can  see 
almost  any  day  on  our  streets,  still  they 
dress  so  differently,  and  talk  so  differ- 
ently, and  live  so  differently  that  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  hear  about 
them  and  meet  one  of  the  families. 

Let 's  begin  with  the  house !  That  cer- 
tainly looks  different  from  any  house  in 
America,  for  it  is  very  low,  like  a  bee- 
hive, it  has  no  windows  and  even  the 
doorway  is  so  low  that  the  grown-up 
people  have  to  stoop  way  over  to  get  in. 

93 


94  Fourteenth  Story 

Inside  there  is  no  floor  but  the  Earth, 
and  there  are  no  tables  or  chairs  or  beds, 
either!  Just  a  few  pots  standing 
around,  one  is  full  of  water  and  another 
has  corn  in  it ! 

I  can  just  hear  you  saying:  ^^Well, 
this  is  a  strange  house !'' 

So  now  is  the  time  to  tell  you  it  was 
built  in  half  an  hour!  Think  of  that! 
For  half  an  hour  is  only  half  the  time 
we  sit  in  Sunday  school!  The  houses 
you  and  I  live  in  take  weeks  and  months 
to  build,  because  we  have  cellars,  and 
floors,  and  window^s,  and  an  upstairs 
and  a  downstairs,  with  thick  solid  walls 
everywhere.  But  when  the  black  father  . 
of  a  black  family  in  Africa  wants  a  new 
house  he  cuts  down  four  nice  straight 
bamboo  trees.  He  makes  four  poles 
from  these  and  sets  them  up  in  the 
Earth  for  the  four  corners  of  his 
house. 

Then  the  mother  does  the  rest !  She 
lays  some  big  leaves  from  the  bamboo 
tree  along  the  sides,  and  she  plasters 
them  with  mud  from  the  village  street. 


House  Built  in  Half  an  Hour        95 

It  is  iso  hut  in  Africa  that  the  mud  walls 
dry  out  right  away.  Then  for  a  roof 
she  carefully  lays  on  layer  after  layer 
of  big  bamboo  leaves  and  some  straw, 
too,  so  the  rain  can't  soak  through.  And 
behold !  the  house  is  done ! 

There  is  almost  always  a  nice  fat 
black  baby  inside  these  funny  houses— 
the  baby  never  wears  any  clothes,  it 
doesn't  have  to,  because  the  weather  is 
always  so  hot  in  Africa.  There  is  an 
elephant 's  tooth  tied  by  a  string  around 
the  baby's  neck,  but  that  is  not  to  help 
keep  him  warm,  of  course,  but  to  protect 
him  from  evil  spirits. 

*'What  are  evil  spirits^"  I  hear  you 
asking. 

I  'm  glad  to  say  there  really  and  truly 
are  no  such  thing  in  God's  World,  of 
course;  but  oh  dear!  the  black  people 
don't  know  about  Gody  so  they  are  afraid 
of  His  wind  and  His  rustling  palm 
leaves,  of  His  animals  and  His  rivers. 
They  think  a  dreadful  spirit  lives  in 
everything  they  can  see,  and  if  they 
don't  wear  a  charm  around  their  necks. 


96  Fourteenth  Story 

like  the  black  h^hy  had,  then  the  evil 
spirit  will  hurt  them.  It  is  all  very  fool- 
ish for  them  to  be  afraid,  but  they  don't 
know  any  better. 

The  mother  and  father  hardly  wear 
any  clothes,  either,  only  on  their  arms 
and  faces  they  have  some  queer-looking 
marks  which  they  cut  right  into  their 
black  skins  on  purpose,  because  they 
think  it  is  very  beautiful  to  have  colored 
tattoo  patterns  all  over  them.  Just  the 
way  you  and  I  think  it  is  very  beautiful 
to  have  colored  patterns  embroidered  on 
the  dresses  w^e  wear.  Our  dresses  wear 
out,  even  the  ones  we  like  the  best ;  but 
their  skins  never  w^ear  out,  of  course, 
so  they  always  have  the  patterns  on 
their  arms  and  faces ! 

There  is  a  dear  little  black  girl  named 
^'Rustling  Grass"  living  in  the  hut,  and 
a  little  boy  called  ^'Lazy  Legs";  of 
course  this  is  what  their  names  mean  in 
English,  they  sound  quite  different  in 
the  African  language,  for  Rustling 
Grass  is  ^^CHIKONDAWANGA"  and 
Lazy  Legs  is  '^NWAEKE,"  names  en- 


House  Built  in  Half  an  Hour        97 

tirely  too  hard  for  us  to  pronounce  very 
often ! 

All  day  long  you  could  hear  the  patter 
of  bare  black  feet  and  the  tinkle  of  ban- 
gles and  beads  as  Rustling  Grass  trotted 
around  with  her  mother.  The  mother 
wore  a  great  big  basket  on  her  back,  so 
Rustling  Grass  had  a  smaller  basket  on 
lier  back,  fastened  with  a  strap  over  her 
forehead.  Something  was  always  in  her 
basket,  perhaps  a  heavy  jug  of  water,— 
really  too  heavy  for  her  to  carry.  It 
makes  her  bend  way  over  until  her  back 
is  tired. 

These  little  black  children  have  no 
toys  in  their  hut,  and  no  toy  stores  in 
all  Africa,  but  come  outside  and  we  shall 
find  that  Someone— the  Friend  of  Lit- 
tle Children,  surely— has  been  filling 
their  whole  world  with  playthings  for 
little  black  children :  long  narrow  palm 
leaves  which  float  on  the  river  like  tiny 
canoes,  little  round  nuts  for  cups  to 
play  house  with,  bamboo  bark  to  build 
little  houses :  God  has  packed  His  World 
full  of  things  for  the  little  black  chil- 


98       House  Built  in  Half  an  Hour 

dren,  but  the  black  father  and  mother 
do  not  let  Rustling  Grass  and  Lazy  Legs 
play  very  long. 

No,  they  do  quite  hard  things  when 
they  are  still  young.  Lazy  Legs  helps 
set  traps  to  catch  the  wild  animals  which 
they  will  eat;  or  he  climbs  trees  and 
helps  gather  the  milky  sap  of  India 
rubber,  while  Rustling  Grass  gathers 
firewood  and  learns  to  plant  seeds  and 
care  for  vegetables.  But  all  the  time, 
morning,  noon  and  night  they  see  some- 
thing in  God's  beautiful  World  to  be 
afraid  of:  in  the  pretty  twigs,  in  the 
wings  of  the  birds,  in  the  vegetable 
leaves,  or  right  in  the  doorway  of  the 
tiny  hut-that- was-built-in-half-an-hour. 
Always  afraid  that  something  will  hurt 
them! 

How  I  wish  that  they  knew  there  is 
nothing  to  fear,  and  that  in  God's 
World  each  bird  and  each  leaf  and  each 
gentle  breeze  is  whispering  over  and 
over:  *^God  is  good!''  ^^God  is  good!" 


FIFTEENTH  STORY 


HOW  THE  TURTLE  SAVED  HIS 
LIFE 


O 


•\ 


mi^rr^ ^^  mMJ^^^Ulu^li. 


Turtles  are  really  so  funny  to  draw 
One  hardly  can  tell  a  jaw  from  a  claw ! 
But  if  one  could  draw  his  brains  one  could  see 
How  knowing  and  wise  a  Turtle  can  be! 


99 


^^HOW  THE  TURTLE  SAVED  HIS 
LIFE'' 

There  are  weeks  and  weeks  in  Africa 
when  it  does  nothing  but  pour  down 
rain  all  day  long!  They  call  it  the 
Rainy  Season.  Sometimes  we  think 
April  is  rather  a  rainy  uncomfortable 
month  here  in  America,  but  just  think 
how  suddenly  the  sun  pops  out  and  the 
World  is  bright  and  clear  again!  But 
in  Africa  it  just  keeps  right  on  raining 
and  raining.  It  is  horrid  and  damp 
everywhere,  but  Lazy  Legs  and  Rust- 
ling Grass  forget  all  about  it  when  their 
mother  tells  them  the  old,  old  stories 
that  black  mothers  have  told  to  little 
black  girls  and  boys  ever  since  there 
were  little  black  girls  and  boys  in  Af- 
rica. One  of  these  old,  old  stories  which 
everyone  liked  about  the  best  was  called 
*^How  the    Turtle    Saved   His   Life." 

100 


How  the  Turtle  Saved  His  Life     loi 

This  is  the  queer  jerky  way  the  black 
mother  told  it,  while  the  rain  was  pour- 
ing down  in  torrents  out  doors: 

*^This  is  the  story  of  the  Turtle  of 
Koka.  A  man  of  Lubi  la  Suku  caught 
a  Turtle  in  the  bush.  Back  he  comes 
to  his  village.  The  wise  men  in  the  Pal- 
aver-House look  at  his  Turtle  and  say : 
*^ No  good!  No  good  at  all!  Kill  it!'' 
^^But  how  shall  we  kill  if?"  asks  one. 

The  Headman  of  the  village  had  the 
right  to  speak  first,  so  he  said:  ^^Cut  ifc 
with  hatchets!" 

Then  was  the  Turtle  frightened,  for 
hatchets  and  he  were  not  friendly.  So 
he  spoke  up  and  said : 

^^  Turtle  of  Koka 
And  hatchet  of  Koka : 
Hatchet  not  kill  me  a  bit." 

Next  the  Headman's  son  arose, 
brave  and  strong  w^as  he.  *^Kill  him 
with  stones,"  he  said. 

Poor  Turtle  felt  sick  with  fear,  for 


102  Fifteenth  Story 

stones  and  he  were  not  friendly.     So 
he  said  by  mouth: 

*^Turtleof  Koka 
And  stone  of  Koka ; 
Stone  will  not  kill  me  a  bit." 

Then  a  mighty  hunter  of  elephants 
roared  at  the  Headman:  **Cast  him  into 
the  fire!'' 

Scared  Turtle  was  hot  with  unhappi- 
ness,  for  fire  and  he  were  not  friendly. 
So  he  said: 

^^  Turtle  of  Koka 
And  fire  of  Koka, 
Fire  will  not  kill  me  a  bit." 

Up  rose  a  feeble  old  fellow,  the  silly 
one  of  the  village.  ^^Kill  him  with 
knives,"  he  piped  in  his  squeaky  voice. 

Poor  Turtle  felt  out  of  his  head,  for 
knives  and  he  were  not  friendly.  But 
he  said: 

^^Turtle  of  Koka 
And  knife  of  Koka 
Knife  will  not  kill  me  a  bit." 


How  the  Turtle  Saved  His  Life     103 

Then  all  the  men  in  the  Palaver- 
House  put  their  heads  side  by  side  and 
they  whispered :  ^ '  This  Turtle —what 
shall  we  do  with  him?  How  shall  we 
kill  him  if  fire  and  knives,  hatchets  and 
stones  cannot  hurt  him?'' 

Then  one  little  man,  quiet  and  timid, 
spoke  up:  ^^ There  is  water  in  the  river. 
Throw  him  in  where  deep  water  flows 
over  the  rocks.    Then  he  will  drown!'' 

Then  the  Turtle  changed  his  song. 
'*Woe  is  me!"  he  sobbed,  '^How  shall  I 
do?  I  shall  surely  die  in  the  deep 
water!  Oh  woe!  Oh  woe!  How  can 
my  masters  be  so  cruel ! ' ' 

So  the  Headman  laughed:  ^^Ha! 
Ha!"  said  he,  ^^at  last  we  have  found 
the  way  to  kill  him!  Toss  him  in  the 
river,  my  brothers." 

So  they  tossed  him  in  the  river  where 
the  water  was  deep.  As  the  happy  Tur- 
tle slid  down  into  the  muddy  water 
which  was  his  old  home,  he  sang : 

**In  water,  in  my  home, 
In  water,  in  my  home!" 


104  Fifteenth  Story 

Then  the  villagers  said  to  the  Head- 
man: ^^ Turtle  has  fooled  ns  all!  We 
were  going  to  kill  him  with  hatchet  but 
he  tells  us:  'Hatchets  not  kill  me  a  bit.' 
But  when  we  spoke  of  the  river,  he 
cried:  'Now  will  I  die  for  sure.'  So  we 
threw  him  in— hut  we  saved  him!  Ha!' 
And  now,  children,  my  tale  is  told — fin- 
ished." 

But  Rustling  Grass  said  just  what  lit- 
tle girls  all  over  God's  World  say  to  the 
Story  Teller:  ''Just  one  more!  Just 
one  more!" 

But  the  mother  has  corn  to  grind  for 
the  father's  cakes,  and  things  to  be 
baked,  so  that  is  all  she  tells  them  to- 
day. Anyhow,  they  know  all  her  stories 
by  heart,  because  they  are  so  very,  very 
old. 


SIXTEENTH  STORY 

THE  BANANA  TEEE  THAT  WAS 
DRESSED  UP 


^•^ 


"Lord,  bless  the  little  children 
So  far  across  the  sea, 
The  children  of  dark  Africa 
Whom  no  one  loves  like  Thee!" 

(  Selected.  ) 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  "Rustling  Grass"  would 
like  a  red  belt  around  her  waist,  and  I  guess  you 
know  about  what  color  bananas  and  leaves  ought 
to  be,  but  don't  forget  to  leave  the  towel  and  ban- 
dages white! 

105 


^^THE  BANANA-TREE-THAT- 
WAS-DRESSED-UP'' 

I  AM  sure  you  haven 't  forgotten  about 
^^ Rustling  Grass '^  and  ^'Lazy  Legs,'' 
the  little  black  children  in  Africa  whom 
we  met  last  Sunday,  whose  real  names 
are  "  CHIKONDAWANGA  ''  and 
^^NWAEKE.'' 

Today  I  have  a  story  about  a  banana 
tree  that  grew  near  their  house,  which 
was  all  dressed  up  in  white  cloth !  Think 
of  it!  The  trunk  of  the  tree  was 
wrapped  in  the  cloth  and  the  top  was 
covered  with  a  towel.  A  small  bundle 
was  tied  to  the  tree  and  a  little  brass 
bowl  was  down  on  the  ground  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree.  What  do  you  suppose 
it  can  all  be  about  ? 

It's  like  this:  Do  you  remember  my 
telling  you  before  that  these  black  peo- 
ple in  God's  Family  were  afraid  of  Evil 

io6 


Banana  Tree  That  Was  Dressed  Up    107 

Spirits  all  the  thne?  Well,  once  the 
witch-doctor,  who  w^as  supposed  to 
know  all  about  evil  spirits,  said  to  the 
mother  of  little  Rustling  Grass: 
^'Bananas  are  taboo  to  your  family— 
you  must  never  eat  a  banana,  or  eat  any- 
thing that  has  even  been  wrapped  in  the 
big  leaf  of  the  banana  tree.  You  must 
tie  this  sacred  bundle  on  the  banana 
tree  near  your  house,  and  take  good 
care  of  the  tree,  then  maybe  the  Banana 
tree  spirit  will  not  hurt  you ! ' ' 

So  the  mother  of  Rustling  Grass  told 
her  husband  all  that  the  witch-doctor 
had  said  about  bananas  being  taboo  in 
their  family,  that  nobody  must  ever 
dare  eat  a  banana,  and  so  on.  The 
father  heli3ed  her  dress  up  the  tree  in 
the  white  cloth  and  the  towel,  and  he 
hung  the  bundle  on  the  tree  and  placed 
the  white  bowl  of  rice  down  at  the  roots. 
They  even  danced  around  the  tree,  hop- 
ing to  please  the  banana  tree  spirit.  And 
Rustling  Grass  and  Lazy  Legs  were  told 
over  and  over  again  that  they  must 
never,  never  eat  a  banana  or  something 


io8  Sixteenth  Story 

dreadful  would  surely  happen  to  them. 
They  believed  every  word  of  it,  too,  and 
nothing  could  have  made  them  disobey. 
That  is,  nothing  until  a  missionary  lady 
came  to  their  village ! 

She  was  the  most  astonishing  person 
they  had  ever  seen,  for  her  skin  was 
white  like  the  clouds,  and  everybody 
else  they  knew  had  skin  as  black  as  coal ! 
She  had  eyes  as  blue  as  the  sky,  and 
everybody  else  they  knew  had  eyes  as 
brown  as  the  mud  in  the  village  streets. 
So  it  was  no  wonder  they  tagged  around 
after  her  everywhere  she  went,  exactly 
like  ^^Mary  had  a  little  lamb''— you 
know? 

Well,  when  she  saw  their  banana  tree 
all  dressed  up  she  was  ever  so  surprised, 
and  asked  them  what  it  all  meant.  So 
they  told  her. 

Of  course  you  know  what  she  tJiougJit, 
but  all  she  said  then  was:  *^Some  day 
you  will  all  know  better,  please  God!'' 

She  started  a  little  school  in  their 
village— a  queer  school  it  was,  for  the 
walls  only  went  part  way  up  to  the 


Banana  Tree  That  Was  Dressed  Up    109 

leafy  roof  so  that  more  air  could  come 
in,  and  sometimes  a  naughty  monkey 
would  climb  up  and  sit  on  the  broken 
wall,  blinking  solemnly  at  all  those  quiet 
black  boys  and  girls  learning  to  write 
and  listening  to  stories  of  Jesus. 

After  school  was  over  the  children 
would  patter  home  on  their  bare  feet 
and  tell  their  parents  these  stories  about 
Jesus,  and  then  the  fathers  would  go  to 
the  Palaver-House  of  an  evening  and 
listen  to  the  wise  words  concerning  God 
from  this  Avhite-teacher-from-over-the- 
sea. 

Some  of  the  real  old  men  in  the  vil- 
lage would  say:  **0h  yes!  we  all  know 
that  God  made  the  world— but  after  He 
made  it  everji^ody  in  Africa  knows  He 
forgot  us.  Everybody  knows  that.  He 
just  forgot  all  about  us.'^ 

^^No!  No!'^  said  the  missionary 
gently,  ^^He  has  never  forgotten  any  of 
us  for  one  single  littlest  minute!  He 
sent  Jesus  to  tell  us  so. ' ' 

Then,  by  the  dim  light  of  a  lantern 
she   would   tell    them   the    same    dear 


no  Sixteenth  story 

stories  of  Jesus  that  she  had  told  the 
children  in  school,  and  the  men  would 
nod  their  heads  and  say:  ^*If  it  were 
true,  how  good  it  would  be!" 

One  day  Rustling  Grass  said  to  her 
brother:  ^^Lazy  Legs,''  she  said,  *^how 
will  we  ever  know  for  sure  that  God 
loves  us,  unless  we  prove  it "? " 

^'What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Lazy 
Legs. 

^'Well,  this  is  what  I  mean,"  said 
Rustling  Grass.  ^'The  White  Lady 
from  over  the  sea  says  that  there  are  no 
such  things  as  evil  spirits,  that  God 
made  everything  and  takes  care  of  us 
every  single  minute.  Now  how  will  we 
ever  know  whether  there  are  really 
banana  tree  spirits  or  not  unless  we  eat 
a  hafiana  and  find  out  what  happens?" 

^^EAT  A  BANANA!"  gasped  Lazy 
Legs,  his  eyes  like  saucers,  he  was  so 
surprised.  *^0h  you  wouldn't  dare! 
The  witch-doctor  told  us  vever  to  eat 
them!  The  banana  tree  spirit  would 
hurt  us " 

*'But  the  White  Teacher  says  there  is 


Banana  Tree  That  Was  Dressed  Up    iii 

no  spirit,"  said  Rustling  Grass,  won- 
dering what  to  believe. 

Without  another  word  she  climbed  up 
the  tree,  broke  off  a  yellow  banana  and 
ate  it  right  up ! 

Lazy  Legs  was  scared  stiff,  but  ab- 
solutely nothing  happened  to  Rustling 
Grass  all  that  day,  so  the  next  day  she 
ate  another  banana!  Nothing  hap- 
pened tliat  day,  so  then  Lazy  Legs  him- 
self climbed  up  and  they  totli  ate  ba- 
nanas, and  nothing  at  all  unusual  hap- 
pened to  anybody ! 

So  hand  in  hand  Rustling  Grass  and 
Lazy  Legs  went  to  the  Palaver-House 
where  their  father  and  some  other  men 
were  talking  to  the  missionary. 

*^We  have  eaten  bananas  and  nothing 
has  happened  to  our  family,"  they  said. 
^*So  we  don't  believe  in  the  banana  tree 
spirit  any  more." 

But  instead  of  being  angry  at  them, 
their  father  said  to  the  missionary :  '^  We 
will  take  the  white  cloths  off  the  banana 
tree,  and  we  will  not  put  rice  in  the 
bowl  any  longer.     My  family  will  all 


112  Sixteenth  Story 

eat  bananas  again.  You  must  stay  here 
and  tell  us  more  every  day  about  the 
wonderful  God  who  does  not  forget  us, 
but  takes  care  of  us  every  day.'' 

So  that  is  the  way  there  came  to  be 
a  tiny  church  in  that  village,  because 
Rustling  Grass  dared  eat  a  banana! 


SEVENTEENTH  STORY 

ELEPHANT  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES 


'This  is  an  idol  so  ugly  and  grim, 

No  wonder  small  boys  are  afraid  of  him ! 

It  seems  very  useless  to  offer  him  rice 

And  even  burn  incense  to  make  him  feel  nice.' 


113 


'^ELEPHANT  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

Pekhaps  you  have  been  in  the  Zoo 
and  have  seen  a  big  gray  elephant,  with 
great  floppy  ears  and  a  queer  long 
trunk,  and  you  must  have  wondered 
where  its  real  home  was.  So  today  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  a  story  of  an  ele- 
phant in  India,  where  elephants  live, 
and  where  all  the  members  of  God's 
family  have  very  brown  skins  and  talk 
in  a  language  you  and  I  do  not  know. 

The  strange  thing  about  this  elephant 
is  that  he  is  not  a  live  elephant  at  all, 
but  is  carved  out  of  stone ;  yet  the  little 
boys  and  girls  of  India  are  dreadfully 
afraid  of  him !  Not  because  he  can  bite, 
for  as  I  said  he  is  stone^  so  he  can't 
move  one  inch,  but  you  will  see  why 
they  are  afraid  later  on. 

There  was  once  a  little  brown  boy  in 
India  named  Ramaswami,  whose  father 
114 


Elephant  Tails  and  Other  Tales      115 

was  a  goldsmith.  In  India  they 
would  say  he  belonged  to  the  goldsmith 
caste.  Everybody  in  India  could  tell  in 
a  minute  what  caste  he  belonged  to  be- 
cause he  had  a  queer  mark  on  his  fore- 
head. All  the  men,  women  and  children 
in  the  goldsmith  caste  have  it  on  their 
foreheads,  too.  How  funny  it  would  be 
if  people  in  America  were  all  divided 
into  castes  with  queer  marks  on  their 
foreheads,  and  you  could  look  at  them 
and  say:  ^^That  man  makes  leather 
things,''  or  ^^that  boy's  father  is  a 
baker,"  or  ^^tliat  girl's  family  have 
ahvays  been  priests."  For  in  India, 
whatever  a  Hindu  great-great-great- 
grandfather did,  CA^erybody  else  in  his 
family  has  to  keep  on  doing,  even  down 
to  little  boys  like  Eamaswami,  who 
knows  perfectly  well  that  when  he  grows 
up  he  will  make  gold  necklaces  and 
bracelets  as  his  father  does. 

But  unfortunately  Eamaswami 's 
father  was  having  some  trouble  in  his 
work ;  not  because  the  brown  people  did 
not  buy  his  bracelets  and  ear-rings  and 


ii6  Seventeenth  Story 

necklaces!  Oh  no!  they  were  crazy 
about  the  pretty  things  he  made,  and 
most  of  the  young  women  even  wore 
toe-rings  and  rings  in  their  noses, 
bought  from  his  shop  in  the  bazaar. 

But  perhaps  you  can  see  that  when  a 
design  has  to  be  cut  into  soft  yellow 
gold  you  have,  to  have  very  good  eye- 
sight, and  sometimes  Ramaswami's  poor 
father  could  hardly  see:  He  would  rub 
his  eyes,  and  blink,  but  instead  of  help- 
ing everything  looked  darker  than  ever. 

*^I  do  hope  the  gods  are  not  sending 
me  blindness!"  he  said  to  himself.  ^^It 
is  a  long  time  since  I  have  been  to  the 
temples  and  taken  a  present  to  the 
idols.  This  very  day  shall  Ramaswami 
and  I  make  a  little  pilgrimage." 

Now  it  is  going  to  give  you  a  big 
surprise  to  know  that  there  are  people 
in  India  who  worship  elephants!  Yes, 
really!  For  the  stone  elephant  I  told 
you  about  at  the  beginning  of  this  story 
was  an  idol,  and  it  was  to  his  shrine  that 
Ramaswami  and  his  father  made  their 
little  pilgrimage. 


Elephant  Tails  and  Other  Tales     117 

Before  they  left  home  Ramaswami 's 
mother  had  woven  garlands  of  bright 
yellow  marigolds  to  hang  around  the 
stone  elephant's  neck,  and  as  Rama- 
swami  carried  them  on  his  arm  he  asked 
about ' '  G  anesa, ' '  which  is  the  elephant- 
god 's  name.  His  father  told  him  the 
elephant  was  the  god  of  prudence  and 
policy y  two  big  grown-up  words  which 
meant  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  very 
wise  indeed. 

After  a  long  time  they  reached  the 
little  temple,  and  there  on  a  stone  plat- 
form, about  as  high  as  a  table,  sat  the 
big  elephant-god  Ganesa.  You  can  see 
from  your  cards  how  perfectly  hideous 
he  was !  Do  you  see  his  elephant's  head 
and  trunk  ?  His  four  hands  ?  And  per- 
haps you  notice  that  he  is  sitting  on  a 
large  stone  rat!  Although  his  picture 
is  horrid  to  look  at,  you  can  just 
imagine  how  much  worse  he  seemed  to 
poor  Ramaswami  who  actually  saw  the 
huge  black  idol !  He  saw  those  terrible 
eyes  painted  to  look  very  fierce,  his 
great  white  tusk  sticking  straight  out 


ii8  Seventeenth  Story 

at  Eamaswami,  his  tiery  reel  tongue  and 
his  big  black  trunk  raised  up  to  one  side 
as  if  to  strike  a  poor  little  boy ! 

I'm  sure  I  don't  blame  him  for  be- 
ing scared  stiffs  and  crying  a  little  bit, 
too,  do  you  1 

Eamaswami's  father  laughed:  ^^He 
won't  hurt  you,  he  is  stone  and  cannot 
move.  So  make  your  salaam  to  the 
Lord  Ganesa.'' 

So  Ramaswami  and  his  father  made 
what  they  call  a  ^^ salaam"  in  India,  by 
bowing  and  touching  their  hands  to 
their  foreheads.  They  hung  the  mari- 
gold wreaths  around  the  elephant's  neck 
and  they  poured  some  gliee^  which  is 
melted  butter,  over  his  head.  This  was 
to  put  him  in  a  good  humor,  you  know. 
Then  Ramaswami 's  father  rubbed  the 
big  painted  eyes  of  the  elephant,  then 
he  rubbed  his  own  eyes,  and  he  said: 
''Hear,  oh  Elephant-god,  thou  whose 
eyes  see  far  and  know  everything,  make 
well  the  eyes  of  thy  worshipful  slave." 

You  w^ould  not  think  anyone  could  be 
so  foolish  as  to  pray  to  a  stone  elephant, 


Elephant  Tails  and  Other  Tales     119 

yet  we  cannot  laugh  about  it,  for  there 
is  something  in  their  poor  dark  hearts 
that  makes  them  want  to  put  their 
hands  together  and  say  prayers  when 
they  are  in  trouble.  Nobody  ever  told 
them  about  Jesus,  so  they  made  these 
queer  gods  with  their  own  hands,  and 
although  the  gods  were  only  stone  dolls 
really,  it  was  all  they  had  to  worship. 
It  certainly  is  all  wrong,  isn't  it? 


EIGHTEENTH  STORY 


THE  WAY  THEY  EAT  SUPPER 
IN  INDIA 


"See  them  kneel 
To  eat  their  meal 
Off  a  leaf. 
'Tis  very  brief, 
Sauce  nnd  rice 
They  think  are  nice. 
One  thing  looks  queer  :- 
No  women  here? 
Oh,  no,  they  wait! 
Although  they  hate 
To  find  food  gone 
That  they  had  hoped 
to  feed  upon." 


Something  for  you  to  do:  Paint  Ramaswami's 
turban  green  and  his  jacket  blue.  His  father's  turban 
is  white,  and  his  jacket  red,  his  baggy  trousers  are 
yellow. 

120 


^^THE  WAY  THEY  EAT  SUPPER 
IN  INDIA'' 

Last  Sunday  we  had  an  elephant 
tale  about  India,  do  you  remember? 
We  saw  a  little  boy  Ramaswami  and 
his  father  worshiping  a  perfectly  hid- 
eous stone  elephant,  so  that  the  idol 
would  cure  the  sore  eyes  of  Rama- 
swami's  father. 

Well,  that  evening  they  had  to  walk 
home  through  the  jungle  about  sunset 
time,  and  how  Ramaswami 's  father  did 
hurry!  For  in  the  jungle  things  grew 
almost  as  high  as  a  man's  head,  and 
so  thick  together  that  dreadful  animals, 
called  tigers,  and  great  snakes,  called 
cobras,  could  easily  hide,  ready  to 
spring  out  and  kill  people.  Up  in  the 
branches  of  the  trees  lively  monkeys 
jumped  around  and  chattered  to  each 
other,  while  bright  green  parrots  made 
a  dreadful  noise  squawking ! 

Z2Z 


122  Eighteenth  Story 

Kamaswami  thought  it  was  rather 
exciting  in  the  jungle,  still  he  was  not 
sorry  when  he  saw  smoke  rising  from  a 
little  village  in  the  distance,  for  he  knew 
it  was  his  own  village,  and  that  over  the 
little  smoking  fires  the  evening  rice  was 
being  cooked,  and  that  his  mother  would 
be  glad  to  see  him. 

Sure  enough,  she  ran  to  the  door  of 
the  little  mud  hut,  saying:  ^'The  apple 
of  my  eye  has  returned,  and  the  rice  is 
boiling  in  the  pot  for  him.'^ 

So  Ramaswami  and  his  father  sat 
down  on  the  floor  and  began  their  sup- 
per at  once.  You  never  knew  such  a 
queer  meal.  The  very  first  thing  that 
happened  was  when  Ramaswami 's 
mother  put  a  little  bit  of  rice  in  a  tiny 
bowl  and  told  her  little  daughter  to  put 
it  before  a  wooden  idol  that  stood  on  a 
little  shelf.  Then  the  mother  scooped 
big  white  balls  of  rice  into  the  plates, 
but  the  plates  were  big  green  plantain 
leaves !  Yes  indeed,  fresh  green  leaves! 
A  very  easy  way  to  get  new  dishes,  I 
am  sure. 


The  Way  They  Eat  Supper  in  India     123 

She  poured  a  brown  sauce  over  the 
rice,  and  I  am  glad  you  don't  have  to 
eat  that  sauce,  for  it  is  so  very  hot  and 
peppery  that  it  would  make  great  tears 
run  down  your  cheeks !  Neither  Rama- 
swami  nor  his  father  used  knives  or 
forks  or  spoons;  oh  no!  they  just 
popped  the  rice  into  their  mouths  with 
their  fingers^  and  soaked  up  the  sauce 
with  some  hard  little  cakes.  But  the 
worst  of  the  whole  meal  was  that  Rama- 
swami's  mother  and  sister  did  not  eat 
with  him  and  his  father.  They  just 
waited  on  him,  and  then  they  sat  down 
on  the  floor  like  human  letter  Z's,  and 
watched  the  men  folk  eat  and  eat  and 
eat!  They  were  very  nice  about  it, 
too.  Ramaswami's  mother  thought  her 
husband  looked  very  handsome  in  his 
big  white  turban  and  his  bright  green 
jacket  with  a  broad  red  belt  twisted 
around  his  hips.  You  see,  she  was  used 
to  waiting  until  the  men  were  through 
before  she  could  begin  eating  whatever 
they  had  left  in  the  brass  bowl. 

Sometimes  there  was  very  little  left, 


124  Eighteenth  Story 

because  the  father  and  brother  had 
eaten  too  much.  Then  the  mother  and 
sister  went  hungry.  So  many  people 
in  India  are  always  hungry,  yet  every 
day  they  save  a  little  rice  out  of  the  pot 
for  the  idol,  because  they  are  afraid  of 
him. 

I  don't  believe  you  ever  realized  be- 
fore what  nice  things  we  white  mem- 
bers of  God's  family  have  to  be  thank- 
ful for !  Not  only  dishes  and  knives  and 
forks  and  chairs,— they  are  just  things; 
but  we  have  love  in  our  families,  we 
like  to  sit  down  to  eat  our  meals  to- 
gether, and  if  there  is  not  enough  to  go 
around,  why  dear  me!  then  we  each 
take  our  proper  share!  You  can't 
imagine  your  father  eating  what  mother 
and  sister  ought  to  have,  can  you  ?  That 
is  what  living  in  a  Christian  land  has 
done  for  us,  and  it  is  only  right  for 
us  to  thank  God  for  our  daily  food  at 
each  meal  because  He  has  given  us  so 
much. 

After   their   strange   supper   Rama- 
swami's  father  said  his  eyes  hurt  him 


TTie  Way  They  Eat  Supper  in  India     125 

worse  than  ever,  probably  because  he 
had  been  walking  in  the  hot  sun  so  long. 
I  am  sure  you  would  like  to  whisper 
to  him  that  a  doctor  could  do  him  more 
good  than  any  hideous  elephant  idol. 
But  of  course  you  do  not  know  yet  that 
there  was  no  real  doctor  in  his  village, 
nor  in  the  village  next  to  his,  nor  in  the 
village  next  to  that^  nor  for  miles  and 
miles  and  miles! 

To  be  sure,  there  were  strange  Hindu 
men  in  each  village  who  said  they  were 
doctors,  but  when  Ramaswami's  father 
had  gone  to  the  one  in  his  village  about 
his  sore  eyes,  what  do  you  suppose  he 
did'?  Why  he  put  a  piece  of  red  hot 
iron  on  top  of  the  father's  head  to  let 
the  pain  out!  Oh,  how  it  hurt!  That 
just  shows  you  he  didn't  know  a  thing 
about  being  a  doctor,  for  he  only  made 
the  poor  eyes  ache  still  more.  So  then 
Ramaswami 's  father  tried  the  elephant- 
god.  I  do  wish  he  could  have  a  good 
doctor,  don't  you'? 


NINETEENTH  STORY 

A  CROCODILE  TAIL  AND  A 
MONKEY  TALE 


This 


IS 


a 

tale 
That 
of 


course 


isn't 


true 


But 


niisht 


thought 


be 


aiiiusiiu 


to 


You! 


126 


"A  CROCODILE  TAIL  AND  A 
MONKEY  TALE" 

Retold  from  the  "Jatakas" 

Ramaswami's  father  kept  on  having 
a  terrible  pain  in  his  eyes,  so  that  he 
simply  could  not  go  to  his  shop  to  make 
gold  bracelets  and  necklaces.  He  stayed 
home,  and  sat  in  the  shade,  with  his 
hands  over  his  eyes,  and  one  day  he 
told  Eamaswami  this  story  which  his 
mother  had  told  to  him  years  before, 
when  he  was  a  little  boy  himself: 

^^Once  there  was  a  great  river  where 
many  Crocodiles  lived,  and  beside  the 
river  there  was  a  big  tree  where  some 
Monkeys  lived.  One  day  a  Crocodile 
said  to  her  son :  'My  son,  catch  a  monkey 
for  me  for  I  want  the  heart  of  a  monkey 
to  eat!' 

^'  ^But  how  can  I  catch  a  monkey?' 
asked  the  little  Crocodile.  *For  I  don't 
127 


128  Nineteenth  Story 

travel  on  land,  and  the  Monkeys  never 
go  in  the  tvaterf' 

"  'Oh,  if  you  put  your  wits  together 
you'll  find  a  good  way,'  said  his  mother. 
So  the  little  Crocodile  thought  and 
thought.  And  finally  he  had  a  bright 
idea ! 

*^He  swam  to  the  tree  where  a  Mon- 
key was  sitting,  looking  across  the  river 
at  an  island  where  cocoanuts  grew. 

''  'Hello,  Monkey!'  called  the  Croco- 
dile, 'come  on  over  to  that  island  with 
me  and  get  a  nice  cocoanut!' 

*'  'But  I  can't  swim!'  said  the 
Monkey,  'so  how  can  I  go?' 

"  'Jump  on  my  back,  and  I'll  take 
you,'  said  the  Crocodile.  So  the  Monkey 
jumped  down  on  the  Crocodile's  back, 
and  off  they  went,  splash,  splash 
through  the  water. 

"  'This  is  a  fine  ride  you  are  giving 
me!'  said  the  happy  Monkey. 

"  'I'm  glad  you  like  it,'  said  the 
Crocodile.  'How  do  you  like  tJiisf  and 
he  swam  down  way  under  the  water. 

"'Stop!  Stop!'  spluttered  the  poor 


Crocodile  Tail  and  a  Monkey  Tale     129 

Monkey  choking,  'what  ever  made  you 
do  thatr 

u  ij-jj^  going  to  drotvn  yon,  so  I  can 
take  your  heart  home  for  my  mother 
to  eat,'  said  the  Crocodile. 

^^But  the  Monkey  was  ever  so  clever. 
This  is  what  he  said:  *What,  you  want 
my  heart!  How"  I  do  wish  you  had  told 
me,  then  I  would  have  brought  it  along.' 

''  'Oh  dear!'  said  the  stupid  Croco- 
dile, 'have  you  left  it  at  home  in  your 
treer 

''  'Yes,  it's  there,  so  if  you  want  it, 
you'll  have  to  take  me  home  first.  But 
since  we  are  so  near  to  those  cocoanuts, 
please  take  me  there  first.' 

"  'No!  no!  Monkey!'  said  the  Croco- 
dile, 'we'll  go  get  your  heart  first.'  So 
back  he  splashed  to  the  shore.  But  no 
sooner  had  the  Monkey  jumped  onto 
the  bank  than  whisk!  zip!  he  was  up 
in  his  tree,  looking  down  at  the  stupid 
Crocodile  as  he  said:  'My  heart  is  up 
here,  silly  Crocodile.  Come  up  and  get 
it!' 

"The  Crocodile  was  so  mad  at  being 


130  Nineteenth  Story 

fooled,  that  the  Monkey  thought  it 
would  be  wise  to  live  in  another  tree 
after  that.  But  the  Crocodile  saw  him 
far  dowai  the  river,  in  the  new  tree  by 
the  river. 

^'Now  in  the  middle  of  the  river  was 
another  island  with  cocoanut  palms,  and 
halfway  between  the  riverbank  and  the 
island  was  a  very  big  rock.  Every  day 
the  Crocodile  saw  the  Monkey  jump 
from  the  bank  of  the  river  to  the  rock, 
and  then  to  the  island,  and  he  said  to 
himself:  ^I'll  get  that  Monkey  yet,  some 
night  when  he  is  jumping  home!' 

''So  all  day  the  Crocodile  swam 
around  watching  the  Monkey  eat  cocoa- 
nuts,  then  toward  night  the  Crocodile 
crawled  out  of  the  water  and  lay  on  the 
rock,  still  as  still  could  be! 

"Pretty  soon  the  Monkey  started  for 
home,  but  just  before  he  jumped  over 
to  the  rock  he  thought:  'How  queer 
and  high  the  rock  looks  tonight!  Oh, 
I  guess  the  Crocodile  nnist  be  on  it!' 

"But  he  never  let  on  that  he  knew 
what  it  was.    He  just  went  to  the  edge 


Crocodile  Tail  and  a  Monkey  Tale     131 

of  the  water  and  cried:  'Hello,  Rock!' 
''No  answer  from  the  still  Crocodile! 
So  he  called  again!  No  ansiver.  Then 
the  clever  Monkey  said :  'Why  don't  you 
answer  me  tonight,  Mr.  Rock?' 

"Then  the  stu^^id  Crocodile  said  to 
himself:  'Oh!  I  see!  The  rock  must 
answer  the  Monkey  every  night.  I'll 
have  to  answer  for  the  rock  this  time.' 
So  he  answered:  'Yes,  Monkey,  what  is 

itr 

"How  the  Monkey  did  laugh  then! 
'Why,  it's  you.  Crocodile,  is  it"?' 

"  'Yes,'  said  the  Crocodile,  'I'm 
waiting  here  to  eat  you  up!' 

"  'Oh  dear!'  groaned  the  Monkey, 
'  I  'm  caught  this  time !  Oh  well !  Open 
your  mouth  wide  so  I  can  jimip  right 
into  it!' 

"Now,  of  course,  you  don't  know 
what  the  Monkey  knew,  that  when 
Crocodiles  open  their  mouths  wide,  they 
really  liave  to  shut  their  eyes !  So  while 
the  stupid  Crocodile  lay  on  the  rock 
with  his  huge  mouth  wide  open,  and  his 
eyes  tight  shut,  the  Monkey  jumped. 


132  Nineteenth  Story 

But  not  into  his  mouth!  Oh  dear,  no! 
He  landed  on  top  of  the  Crocodile's 
head,  and  then  jumped  onto  the  shore. 
Up  he  whisked  into  his  tree. 

'^When  the  stupid  Crocodile  saw  the 
trick  the  clever  Monkey  had  played  on 
him  he  said:  ^You  are  a  very  wise  ani- 
mal. I  think  I  won't  waste  any  time 
trying  to  catch  you  again.' 

'^  ^Oh,  won't  jouV  said  the  Monkey. 
^I'll  keep  one  eye  out  for  you  just  the 


same.'  " 


TWENTIETH  STOKT 

HOW    RAMASWAMI'S     FATHER 
CAME  TO  WEAR  SPECTACLES 


Poor  Ramaswami  was  worried,  we're  told, 
Because  his  nice  father,  who  made  things  from  gold, 
Had  eyes  that  were  aching  so  terribly  hard 
He  just  had  to  sit  around  home  in  his  yard. 
But  then  came  our  Doctor,  so  clever  and  bright, 
And  gave  him  some  glasses,  and  brought  back  his 
sight. 


133 


^^HOW  RAMASWAMI'S   FATHER 
CAME  TO  WEAR  SPECTACLES" 

Last  Sunday  I  told  you  what  a  ter- 
rible pain  Ramaswami's  father  felt  in 
his  eyes,  and  how  he  could  not  see  to 
cut  beautiful  patterns  on  bracelets  or 
necklaces.  Instead,  he  had  to  sit  home 
day  after  day  in  the  shade  of  their  little 
mud  hut,  holding  his  head  in  his  hands, 
wondering  if  he  ever  could  see  well 
again. 

The  whole  family  were  hungry,  for 
when  a  goldsmith  cannot  work,  there  is 
no  money  to  buy  food.  One  morning 
Ramaswami's  mother  cried  as  she  said: 
^*Alas!  There  is  no  rice  for  the  pot,  and 
no  food  for  the  stomach.  But  what 
can  we  do ?    It  is  the  will  of  the  idols !'' 

Then  Ramaswami  made  up  his  mind 

the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  pray  once 

more  to  the  village  idol,  and  give  it  a 

present.     It  was  terribly  hot  weather: 

134 


Ramaswami's  Father's  Spectacles     135 

all  the  green  grass  had  withered  and 
turned  brown,  the  mud  streets  had  great 
cracks  in  them  where  the  mud  had  dried 
into  cakes,  and  even  the  village  well 
had  run  dry,  so  that  Ramaswami's 
sister  had  only  been  able  to  draw  a  tea- 
cupful  of  water  in  her  big  stone  jar. 

When  Ramaswami  looked  around  for 
a  present  for  the  idol  all  he  could  find 
was  this  water  in  the  stone  jar,  so  he 
took  that  in  a  little  brass  bowl  to  the 
temple.  There  sat  the  great  stone  idol, 
motionless  as  a  giant  doll.  Ramaswami 
timidly  knelt  and  dashed  the  cool  water 
over  the  idol,  as  he  said:  ^^Give  back 
my  father's  eyes,  O  Vishnu."  In  the 
courtyard  he  saw  the  sacred  temple 
animals  with  garlands  of  flowers  around 
their  necks,  and  he  bowed  to  them,  hop- 
ing each  thing  he  did  might  please  the 
idols. 

Then  as  he  was  lazily  walking  home 
he  heard  strange  singing  and  saw  a 
crowd  of  people  listening  to  a  man  talk- 
ing. That  man  belongs  to  you  and  me ! 
He  is  our  missionary,  sent  over  to  India 


i36  Twentieth  Story 

by  our  very  own  church  to  spend  all 
his  time  telling  the  brown  people  about 
God. 

Of  course  Ramaswami  hurried  over 
to  find  out  what  was  going  on.  He 
never  had  seen  a  white  man  before,  so 
he  wriggled  right  through  the  crowd 
and  got  right  up  close  to  him.  He 
rather  liked  what  our  Mr.  Missionary 
was  saying,  but  he  couldn't  lielp  but 
laugh  at  the  queer  pieces  of  glass  the 
man  wore  fastened  on  his  nose!  He 
never  had  seen  jewelry  like  that  before. 
So  he  piped  right  out:  ^^ Sahib!  Why 
do  you  wear  pieces  of  glass  fastened  on 
your  nose"?'' 

Our  Mr.  Missionary  answered  that 
once  his  eyes  had  hurt  him  a  great  deal, 
but  as  soon  as  he  began  to  look  through 
these  pieces  of  glass,  called  spectacles, 
then  he  could  see  perfectl3^  It  made 
Ramaswami  think  of  his  poor  father's 
eyes  at  once. 

*'0  stranger— Sahib!"  he  begged, 
**walk  to  my  home  and  see  my  father. 
He  sits  in  darkness  unable  to  see.    We 


Ramaswami's  Father's  Spectacles     137 

belong  to  the  goldsmith  caste,  but  now 
he  cannot  work,  and  there  is  no  rice  for 
our  pot,  and  no  food  for  our  stomachs." 

Of  course  our  Mr.  Missionary  went. 
Ramaswami's  father  got  up  from  the 
shadow  of  his  mud  hut,  and  touched  his 
hand  to  his  forehead.  ^^  Salaam  Sahib !" 
he  said  politely,  which  means  in  Eng- 
lish: '^Good-morning,  sir!" 

Well,  our  Mr.  Missionary  spent  a 
long  time  telling  the  family  about  our 
Hospital  at  Ranipettai,  where  sick  eyes 
could  be  treated— for  money,  if  the 
people  were  rich ;  for  love,  if  the  people 
were  poor.  He  explained  that  there 
were  schools  there,  too:  a  school  where 
Ramaswami  could  learn  wisdom ;  a  lace 
school  where  Ramaswami 's  mother 
could  learn  to  make  lace  to  support  the 
family,  and  last  of  all^  a  boarding-school 
where  Ramaswami 's  sister  could  be  sent 
to  school. 

You  ought  to  have  heard  the  family 
laugh  at  that!  They  thought  it  must 
be  a  joke!  ''What?  Send  a  girl  to 
school,  Sahib '^^  they  asked.     "Surely 


138  Twentieth  Story 

a  girl  can't  learn  liow  to  read  or 
writer' 

But  our  Mr.  Missionary  told  how  he 
knew  lots  and  lots  of  girls  who  could 
read  just  as  well  as  boys.  Dear  me! 
they  couldn't  get  over  being  surprised! 
Then  our  Mr.  Missionary  felt  sorry  for 
them  because  they  were  so  poor,  he  said 
he  w^as  starting  home  that  day  in  his 
bullock  cart,  it  was  only  twenty  miles, 
so  he  would  take  them  wdth  him.  They 
decided  that  w^as  the  best  thing  to  do, 
although  the  brown  people  in  India  are 
not  fond  of  leaving  their  homes  to  live 
somewhere  else,  they  think  the  idols  on 
their  shelf  w^ill  not  like  to  be  moved! 

But  w^hen  they  finally  got  to  Eani- 
pettai— will  you  say  that  name  with 
me:  ^^Ranipettai,''— it  means,  ^'Place 
of  the  Queen"— then  they  were  glad 
they  had  come.  For  in  the  Hospital  one 
of  our  Dr.  Missionaries  took  care  of 
Ramaswami's  father.  He  did  all  sorts 
of  things  to  his  eyes,  then  he  bandaged 
them  up,  and  persuaded  the  father  to 
get  into  the  bed ! 


Ramaswami's  Father's  Spectacles     139 

To  tell  the  truth,  Ramaswami's  father 
was  afraid  of  that  bed!  You  see,  he 
had  never  even  seen  one  before,  because 
the  brown  people  in  India  sleep  on  the 
floor.  So  the  bed  hardly  seemed  safe, 
it  was  so  high  up  from  the  floor,  and  I 
suj^pose  Ramaswami's  father  felt  the 
way  you  and  I  would  feel  if  we  had  to 
sleep  on  the  roof ! 

However,  he  slept  there  a  whole 
month,  and  every  day  a  Bible  woman 
came  in  and  told  him  stories  about 
Jesus,  so  that  he  became  very  much  in- 
terested. At  last  the  doctor  took  off 
the  bandages,  and  gave  him  some  pieces 
of  glass  to  fasten  on  Ms  nose :  spectacles, 
of  course— and  then  he  really  was  the 
proudest,  happiest  man  in  all  India,  for 
he  could  see,  and  down  in  his  heart  was 
a  new  love  for  Jesus.  Next  Sunday  I 
will  tell  you  what  happened  to  the  rest 
of  the  family. 


TWTENTY-FIRST  STORY 


RAMASWAMI'S  MOTHER  EARNS 
A  RUPEE 


Here  are  the  bobbins  and  here  is  the  thread 
That  earns  for  these  women  their  own  daily  bread, 
Tliey  have  all  their  collars  and  doilies  for  sale, 
And  oh!  but  they're  dainty  cob-webby  and  frail! 


140 


' '  RAMAS  WAMI  'S  MOTHER 
EARNS  A  RUPEE'' 

Last  Sunday  while  we  heard  about 
Ramaswami's  father  in  our  Hospital, 
having  his  eyes  made  well,  the  rest  of 
the  family  were  having  a  wonderful 
time  going  to  school.  Yes,  all  of  them, 
even  the  mother ! 

She  went  to  a  Lace  School  in  Rani- 
pettai,  where  one  of  our  missionaries 
teaches  poor  women  to  make  lace,  and 
although  she  was  not  very  quick  in 
learning  to  do  it,  because  her  fingers  all 
seemed  to  be  thiimhs^  yet  she  did  finally 
finish  a  small  piece  of  lace.  Just  a  small 
queer  little  piece  of  lace,  with  several 
mistakes  in  it.  But  along  came  a  nice 
American  visitor,  and  when  she  saw  the 
crooked  little  piece  of  lace,  and  looked 
at  the  dear  brown  fingers  of  Rama- 
swami's  mother,  and  heard  the  story 
about  Ramaswami's  father— why  then 
141 


142  Twenty-first  Story 

she  did  the  nicest  thing,  she  bought  the 
piece  of  lace!  She  even  paid  entirely 
too  much  for  it,  because  she  was  sorry 
for  the  family.  She  laid  one  rupee  in 
those  dear  brown  hands:  one  rupee  is 
worth  thirty-three  cents  in  our  money ! 
Thirty-three  cents  seemed  a  great  deal 
of  money  to  Ramaswami's  mother,  but 
instead  of  spending  it  for  rice  or  a  new 
saree  for  herself,  this  is  what  she  did: 

Smiling  all  over  her  dear  brown  face 
she  went  to  the  Hospital  and  said  to 
Ramaswami's  father:  ''The  one  and 
only  God  has  given  much  happiness  to 
our  family,  the  noble  doctor  has  given 
you  back  your  eyes  and  these  pieces  of 
glass  to  fasten  on  your  nose !  Is  it  right 
that  we  should  take  all  this  for  nothing  ^ 
No!  So  let  us  hide  this  rupee  under  the 
leaves  of  the  betel-nuts  for  the  doctor 
to  find.    It  will  be  our  present  to  Jesus. ' ' 

Don't  you  really  think  that  was  a 
lovely  thing  for  her  to  do?  So  they 
put  the  rupee  on  a  little  tray,  and  cov- 
ered it  over  with  the  leaves  of  the  betel- 
nut,  with  some  betel-nuts  on  top  and  one 


A  Rupee  Earned  143 

little  plantain,  which  is  like  a  banana, 
you  know!  They  handed  the  tray  to 
our  doctor  with  many  a  deep  salaam, 
and  he  never  knew  until  hours  later  that 
the  rupee  was  hidden  there.  It  made 
him  have  a  nice  warm  feeling  around 
his  heart  to  know  how  much  these  new 
friends  appreciated  what  he  had  done ! 

All  this  time  Ramaswami  was  having 
a  beautiful  time  in  Ins  school,  and  his 
sister,  Anandabai,  was  having  an  even 
better  time  in  Tier  school,  because  she 
simply  could  not  get  over  being  sur- 
prised that  girls  could  learn  to  read! 

This  is  the  way  she  began  to  learn. 
She  sat  on  the  floor  and  began  tracing 
the  Hindu  alphabet  in  some  sand  spread 
out  before  her.  Such  funny  little  Jiooks 
and  curves  as  she  did  have  to  make  I 
Then  by  and  by  when  she  knew  how  to 
make  them,  the  teacher  gave  her  a 
slate,  and  she  scratched  away  on  that 
with  a  great  deal  of  noise  and  pleasure. 
She  loved  the  school,  and  the  teachers, 
and  the  other  scholars.  She  was  work- 
ing specially  hard,  because  one  of  the 


144  Twenty-first  Story 

little  girls  had  told  her  that  at  the  end  of 
the  school  year,  every  girl  who  passed 
her  examinations  always  received  a 
doll.  For  the  Primer  class,  the  cmming 
dolls  were  only  two  inches  long ;  for  the 
older  class,  three  inches  long;  indeed, 
every  year  you  stayed  in  that  school  you 
got  a  bigger  doll— if  you  passed,  of 
course ! 

Anandabai  had  never  had  a  doll  in 
all  her  life ;  in  fact,  she  had  never  seen 
one  until  she  came  to  our  school ;  so  she 
made  up  her  mind  she  would  stay  at 
that  school  until  she  had  earned  every 
single  doll,  big,  little,  that  a  girl  could 
earn!  Then  she  would  go  back  to  her 
village  with  her  head  packed  full  of 
knowledge  and  her  arms  loaded  down 
with  dolls ;  and  she  would  swagger  down 
the  village  street  while  all  the  neighbors 
would  say:  ^* There  goes  Anandabai! 
Have  you  seen  her  wonderful  dolls'? 
She  knows  more  than  any  girl  ever 
knew  before— she  even  knows  more  than 
any  man  in  the  village!!'' 

Now  of  course  this  was  a  very  fool- 


A  Rupee  Earned  145 

ish,  silly  thing  for  her  to  think,— by  and 
by  she  saw  how  conceited  that  would 
be,  but  not  right  away.  No !  it  took  time 
for  our  missionaries  to  teach  her,  you 
see! 

Well,  at  the  end  of  six  weeks  her 
father  left  the  hospital  with  his  eyes 
cured,  and  the  first  thing  he  thought  of 
was  getting  back  to  his  own  village  to 
begin  making  bracelets  and  necklaces 
again.  They  decided  to  leave  Eama- 
swami  in  school,  but  Anandabai  would 
be  needed  at  home,  to  get  water  from 
the  well,  to  grind  the  corn,  and  milk  the 
goat! 

Well!!  You  can  just  imagine  how 
Anandabai  felt  to  think  of  going  home 
without  a  single  doll,  or  a  bit  of  knowl- 
edge,—of  course,  no  one  could  admire 
her  yet!  So  she  begged  and  begged  to 
stay  till  the  end  of  the  year,  anyhow; 
till  she  earned  one  tiny  doll,  at  least. 
Our  missionaries  wanted  her  to  stay, 
too,  only,  of  course,  it  was  a  pretty 
tight  squeeze  to  keep  her  in  their 
crowded  school.     But  the   girls  were 


146  Twenty-first  Story 

quite  willing  to  keep  on  sleeping  closer 
and  eating  a  little  less,  if  only  Anan- 
dabai  could  stay.  So  finally  her  mother 
and  father  rode  back  to  their  village  in 
a  squeaky  bullock  cart,  but  Anandabai 
stayed  on  at  school.  Next  Sunday  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  about  the  little 
girl-who-was-almost-turned-away! 


TWENTY-SECOND  STOKY 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL  WHO  WAS 
ALMOST  TURNED  AWAY. 


Room  for  one  more 

On  the  schoolhoiise  floor? 

Well — yes — though  'twill  squeeze 

These  nice  girls  on  their  knees, 

Who  can  now  understand 

How  to  write  in  the  sand. 


147 


''THE  LITTLE  GIRL  WHO  'AL- 
MOST' HAD  TO  BE  TURNED 
AWAY'' 

Last  Sunday  I  told  you  how  Rama- 
swami  and  Anandabai  were  left  at 
school,  when  their  mother  and  father 
returned  to  the  old  village,  after  the 
father's  eyes  were  cured.  Perhaps  you 
remember  that  Anandabai  specially 
wanted  to  stay,  so  she  could  earn  a  little 
doll  at  the  end  of  the  year,  to  show  it 
off  to  the  people  in  her  village  when 
she  went  home.  Then  every  one  would 
say:  '^ Isn't  it  wonderful  Anandabai  is 
a  girl,  but  she  can  actually  read!  And 
she  earned  a  doll  at  her  school.  No  one 
is  so  bright  as  Anandabai  in  all  our 
village." 

We  decided  last  Sunday  that  this  was 
a  queer  vain  way  to  feel,  and  Anandabai 
thought  so  herself  before  long. 
148 


Girl  Who  Was  Almost  Turned  Away     149 

You  see,  she  began  to  watch  our  mis- 
sionaries, and  some  of  the  brown  girls 
who  never  worshipped  idols  now,  but 
were  Christians.  Anandabai  watched 
every  single  tiling  they  did;  and  she 
saw  they  were  quite  different  from  the 
heathen  girls  who  worshipped  idols: 
they  spoke  kindly  to  each  other;  they 
did  not  mind  eating  less  food,  so  Anan- 
dabai could  stay  at  school;  they  never 
grabbed  for  things  at  meal-time  that 
did  not  belong  to  them;  they  never 
bragged  about  themselves,  saying:  **I 
am  a  good  scholar,  you  never  see  me 
making  mistakes  in  class!''  Yet  that 
was  what  Anandabai  had  said  once. 
She  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  it,  now. 

**When  I  get  grown  up,  I'm  going  to 
be  exactly  like  these  Christian  girls," 
Anandabai  said  to  our  Missionary. 

*^ Don't  wait  until  you're  groivn  up/' 
our  Missionary  answered,  ^^the  only 
time  to  begin  being  a  Christian  girl  is 
now,  riglit  away.  So  begin  tomorrow, 
dear!" 

And  under  the  big  twinkling  stars 


150  Twenty-second  Story 

that  night,  Ananclabai  put  her  brown 
hand  into  the  white  hand  of  our  Mis- 
sionary, as  she  whispered:  '^Tomorrow 
then!  You  shall  see  me  begin  to  be  a 
Jesus  girl!" 

The  very  next  day  while  all  the  girls 
were  eating  chota  hazri  in  the  court- 
yard, sitting  in  two  long  lines  with  their 
plates  on  the  ground  before  them,  there 
was  a  big  commotion  at  the  gate:  loud 
voices,  and  the  sound  of  crying. 

Anandabai  crept  to  the  gate  to  find 
out  what  it  was  all  about.  There  she 
saw  a  little  girl,  just  her  own  age,  sitting 
in  back  of  a  bullock  cart,  crying  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  A  man  in  a 
green  turban  was  salaaming  to  our 
Missionary,  and  saying  over  and  over: 
^'But  Mem  Sahib,  you  said  last  year 
when  you  visited  our  village  that  my 
daughter  would  be  welcome  in  your 
school.  So  her  mother  has  packed  two 
clean  sarees  and  some  rice,  and  we  have 
traveled  three  days,  only  to  have  you 
say  *  There  is  no  room  in  the  school?'  '' 

Then  our  Missionary  began  to  explain 


Girl  Who  Was  Almost  Turned  Away     151 

all  over  again:  '^I  am  so  sorry,  but  you 
see  our  school  was  crowded  even  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  and  since  then 
I  have  kept  crowding  in  one  more  girl, 
then  another  girl,  and  by  and  by  another 
girl,  then  still  one  more,  until  four 
months  ago  I  squeezed  in  the  very  last 
girl  I  possibly  could!  I  am  so  sorry— 
so  very  sorry " 

Then  Anandabai  ran  up  very  timidly. 
She  remembered  telling  our  Missionary 
the  night  before  that  on  the  next  day 
she  would  begin  being  unselfish.  Well, 
the  new  day.had  come,  and  here  was  her 
chance. 

^'Heaven-born!''  she  said  to  our  Mis- 
sionary, ''ask  the  little  stranger  girl  to 
dry  her  tears.  I  was  the  last  little  girl 
you  squeezed  in,  so  now  that  I  have 
learned  my  alphabet  and  know  about 
Jesus,  should  I  not  return  to  my 
mother's  village  to  draw  water  from  the 
well,  and  grind  the  corn,  and  milk  the 
goat ;  then  the  stranger  girl  can  squeeze 
into  rny  place!" 

Well,— our    Missionary    was    never 


152  Twenty-second  Story 

more  astonished,  and  the  new  little  girl 
crying  in  the  bullock  cart  sniffled  the 
way  you  do  when  you  feel  sure  the  worst 
is  over! 

But  the  other  girls  in  the  school  said : 
^^No,  no,  Exalted  Teacher,  why  should 
Anandabai  leave!  We  will  squeeze  a 
little  tighter  —  there  are  only  two 
months  more!'' 

Even  when  our  Missionary  said  it 
would  be  ever  so  uncomfortable,  and  no ! 
she  really  could  not  allow  it,  a  perfect 
chorus  of  voices  said:  ^^Oh  please! 
please  let  them  both  stay!'' 

So  they  did.  And  there  was  more 
love  in  everybody 's  heart  because  Anan- 
dabai had  been  so  good  to  the  new  little 
girl  who  almost  had  to  be  turned  away. 

There  really  is  some  more  to  my 
story,  for  the  next  year  a  little  school 
was  started  in  Anandabai 's  village,  so 
she  lived  at  home,  and  everybody  in  the 
village  really  was  proud  of  her,  because 
she  knew  more  than  any  of  the  other 
girls,  and  had  earned  one  doll.  But 
Anandabai  knew  better  than  to  be  vain 


Girl  Who  Was  Almost  Turned  Away     1 53 

about  such  a  little  thing  as  knowing  the 
alphabet. 

^'No,''  she  said  to  herself,  ^4f  I  live 
to  be  a  hundred  I  can  never  know  all 
our  Missionary  knows,  or  do  as  much 
good  as  she  does.  But  I  just  think  I'll 
try!''  And  of  course  that's  all  any- 
body can  do ! 


TWENXY-THIRD  STORY 

"GOD'S  LITTLE  GARDEN" 


These   five   small   pansy   faces,    a   message   sweet   can 

tell, 
I  hope  you'll  listen  to  them,  and  heed  their  message 

well : 


'My  heart  is  God's  little  garden, 

And  the  flowers  blooming  there  each  day, 
Are  the  things  he  shall  see  me  doing, 

And  the  words  he  shall  hear  me  say !" 

— Selected. 


Something  for  you  to  do  ;  Leave  one  little  pansy 
white,  that's  for  you  and  me;  then  paint  one  yellow 
for  Little  Miss  Daffodil,  a  Chinese  girl ;  one  black, 
for  Rustling  Grass;  one  brown  for  Ramaswami  and 
one  red  for  the  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns. 


154 


^^ GOD'S  LITTLE  GARDEN '' 

Every  once  in  a  while  I  see  a  little 
hoy  or  girl  who  reminds  me  of  a  certain 
flower.  You  know  what  I  mean,  for  you 
have  often  heard  jDeople  say:  ^^Mary's 
eyes  are  as  blue  as  forgetmenots/' 
^^ Ruth's  cheeks  are  like  pink  roses/' 
^* Tom's  lips  are  as  red  as  poppies/' 
But  the  other  day  it  occurred  to  me  in 
looking  at  some  pansies  that  they  are 
almost  exactly  like  the  faces  of  God's 
Family ! 

It  isn't  at  all  hard  to  pretend  that  the 
white  pansies  are  the  white  members  of 
God's  Family,  that  means  you  and  all 
the  other  white  children  in  God's 
world.  Then  the  hlach  pansies  certainly 
must  be — ^w^ho  do  you  suppose?  Of 
course!  The  black  negro  people  in 
Africa!  Surely  you  haven't  forgotten 
about  their  little  houses-that-are-built- 
in-half-an-hour,   or   about  the  banana 

155 


156  Twenty-third  Story 

tree-that- was-all-dressed-up !  The  yel- 
low pansies  are  the  Japanese  children 
in  God's  Family.  I  think  you  remember 
their  dear  little,  queer  little-houses-that- 
were-made-of-paper,  and  the  cradle- 
that-walked-on-two-feet,  and  the  pa- 
goda-that-had-five-roofs  where  they 
worshipped  the  ugly  idol.  .  The  hrown 
pansies  are  certainly  the  dear  little 
brown  children  of  India.  I  have  just 
been  telling  you  Elei)hant  tales  about 
their  elephant-god  and  about  Rama- 
swami  and  Anandabai.  As  for  these 
reddish-colored  pansies,  they  are  the 
American  Indians  who  live  here  in  our 
country,  although  I  haven't  had  tune 
to  tell  you  about  them  yet. 

Well,  you  know  the  minute  you  see  a 
pansy  that  it  is  a  pansy,  whatever  color 
it  is,  don't  you?  In  the  same  way,  we 
can  always  know  that  everybody  we  see 
is  a  member  of  God's  Family,  whatever 
color  they  may  be! 

Now  let  me  tell  you  the  history  of 
the  pansies.  They  weren't  always 
flowers.    No,  once  they  were  only  queer- 


God's  Little  Garden  157 

looking  seeds  like  these.  [The  teacher 
is  requested  to  have  some  pansy  seeds, 
also  five  pansies  of  the  above  mentioned 
colors  to  illustrate  this  story.]  How 
very  small  the  seeds  do  look !  Here  are 
five  of  them,  all  exactly  alike  as  far  as 
you  or  I  can  see.  Once  somebody 
planted  five  seeds  just  like  these  down 
in  the  earth  of  a  pretty  garden,  God 
sent  His  rain  and  His  sun  to  help  them 
grow,  and  somehow  he  taught  them  how 
to  split  open  when  the  rain  had  wet 
them  and  the  sun  had  warmed  them. 
Then  tiny  little  green  shoots  began 
growing  higher  and  higher,  until  finally 
they  pushed  right  out  into  the  sunlight. 
They  still  kept  on  growing,  and  you 
could  plainly  see  little  leaves,  then  little 
buds— then  what?  Yes,  five  little  pan- 
sies! But  although  the  seeds  all  looked 
alike,  and  the  plants  all  looked  alike, 
and  the  huds  all  looked  alike,  one 
flower  had  wJiite  petals,  another  black 
petals,  another  hroivn  petals,  another 
yellow  petals,  and  another  reddish 
petals!    The  minute  they  opened  their 


158  Twenty-third  Story 

petals  the  same  sweet  smell  seemed  to 
breathe  the  words : ' '  God  is  good ! ' '  And 
if  you  had  your  eyes  shut,  you  couldn't 
tell  one  flower  from  the  other :  the  color 
was  the  07ily  difference. 

God  has  given  each  child  in  His  great 
big  Family  a  little  garden  of  his  very 
own,  in  which  we  are  each  to  plant  the 
seeds  of  love  and  kindness.  I  know  a 
little  verse  that  tells  the  whole  story: 

''My  heart  is  God's  little  garden, 
And  the  flowers  growing  there  each 
day, 

Are  the  things  he  shall  see  me  doing, 
And  the  words  he  shall  hear  me  say." 

But  just  as  all  the  pansy  plants 
needed  God's  sun  to  help  them  grow 
right,  so  every  little  child  needs  God's 
Son,  Jesus,  to  help  him  grow  right.  All 
over  God's  world  our  missionaries  are 
busy  telling  the  children  of  God's 
Family  that  their  hearts  are  God's  little 
gardens,  and  showing  them  how  to  grow 
right.    But  the  aad  part  about  it  is  that 


God's  Little  Garden  159 

there  aren't  nearly  enough  missionaries 
to  go  around  among  all  of  God's  Family 
who  never  heard  of  Him,  so  whenever 
you  look  at  little  pansy  faces  smiling 
up  at  you  from  a  garden,  I  want  you 
to  remember  the  little  yellow  and  black 
and  brown  and  red  faces  of  God's 
Family.  And  I  want  you  to  pray  that 
just  as  all  the  dear  pansy  faces  seem 
to  say  ^^God  is  good!"  so  God  wants 
to  see  all  the  little  red  and  yellow  and 
black  and  brown  faces  smiling  as  they 
sing,  ^^God  is  good!" 

I  think  it  is  very  nice  to  know  that 
it  doesn't  matter  what  color  their  faces 
are.  Just  the  way  a  black  pansy  is  ex- 
actly as  sweet  as  a  yellow  pansy  or  a 
white  pansy.  You  won't  forget  all  this 
the  next  time  you  see  pansies,  will  you'? 
For  Children's  Day  can't  be  a  real 
Children's  Day  until  every  single  child 
all  over  God's  world  joins  with  us  in 
singing:  ^^God  is  good!" 


T^^^5NTY-FO^RTH  STOHY 

THE  LONELY  HOUSE  THAT 
HAD  NO  NEIGHBOES 


"How  lonely  it  is!"  the  Lonely  House  thinks 
While  its  one  lonely  window  solemnly  blinks, 
"I've  nothing  to  look  at  but  hills,  all  the  day, 
For  all  of  my  neighbors  live  so   far  away." 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  I  think  it  would  com- 
fort the  Lonely  Little  House  if  you  painted  its  wood- 
work brown,  and  the  grass  green.  The  mother  in 
the  doorway  wants  a  new  blue  dress,  too ! 


x6o 


^^THE  LONELY  HOUSE-THAT- 
HAD-NO-NEIGHBORS ' ' 

I  HAVE  told  you  stories  about  a  dear 
little,  queer  little  house-that-was-made- 
of-pap^r,  and  other  stories  about  the 
little  house-that-was-built-in-half-an- 
hour,  so  today  I  have  another  story 
about  a  very  Lonely  House-That-Had- 
No-Neighbors ! 

It  seems  to  me  it  must  be  ever  so 
friendly  for  one  little  house  to  look 
across  the  street  and  see  smoke  curling 
out  of  the  chimney  of  the  house  over 
there.  ' '  Well,  well ! ' '  says  the  first  little 
house  to  himself,  "they  must  be  getting 
supper  over  at  the  Smiths!"  Or  per- 
haps when  the  little  house  looks  right 
next  door  and  sees  fresh  white  curtains 
at  the  windows,  can't  you  just  imagine 
how  green  with  jealousy  he  must  feel 
until  the  people  who  live  inside  him  put 

i6i 


1 62  Twenty-fourth  Story 

curtains  at  his  windows,  too  ?  Yes,  hav- 
ing neighbors  is  very  cheerful ! 

The  little  house  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  about  today  has  no  neighbors  at  all, 
and  no  nice  curtains  at  the  windows, 
either.  Not  even  any  glass  in  the  win- 
dows! 

I  hear  you  asking:  ^'What  kind  of  a 
family  live  inside ?'' 

Well,  they^re  white  people,  just  ex- 
actly like  you  and  me,  in  lots  of  ways. 
I  mean  they  speak  the  same  language, 
and  they  have  the  same  color  skin,  and 
they  live  in  America  with  us,  but  each 
lonely-house-that-has-no-neighbors  is 
tucked  in  among  the  trees  in  a  valley 
with  oh!  so  many  hills  all  aroimd  it! 
Just  hills— and  hills— and  hills— every- 
where! And  it's  awfully  hard  to  get 
from  one  lonely  -  house  -  that  -  has  -  no  - 
neighbors  over  to  another  lonely-house- 
that-has-no-neighbors.  That  is  because 
the  roads  in  these  hills  are  very  poor— 
all  stony  and  steep,  sometimes  a  river 
runs  right  across  a  road  in  one  place, 
and  a  tree  grows  right  in  the  middle 


House  That  Had  No  Neighbors     163 

of  the  road  in  another  place.  And 
sometimes  there  isn't  any  road  at  all, 
oh,  dear ! 

So  you  can  plainly  see  it  isn't  much 
fun  to  live  in  a  lonely-house-that-has- 
no-neighbors,  although  I  really  haven't 
told  you  the  worst  about  it  yet.  It 
seems  to  me  it's  bad  enough  not  to  have 
any  other  family  to  play  with  or  look 
at,  but  just  suppose  there  wasn't  really 
room  enough  in  the  lonely-house-that- 
has-no-neighbors  for  the  family  that 
lived  in  it !  Suppose  there  was  only  one 
room,  with  a  bed  in  one  corner,  a  smoky 
fireplace  where  mother  did  all  the  cook- 
ing, two  very  uncomfortable  chairs  that 
father  made  out  of  boxes,  and  a  queer 
old  tipsy  table  and  a  spinning-wheel! 
From  the  ceiling  hang  strings  of  onions, 
and  red  and  green  peppers,  and  a  ham ! 

^'That  is  a  queer  way  for  American 
children  to  live,"  you  say,  ^^only  one 
bed  when  there  are  so  many  in  the 
family."  Of  course  all  these  families 
who  live  in  these  lonely-houses-that- 
have-no-neighbors  are  very  poor,  and 


164  Twenty-fourth  Story 

they  can't  afford  to  have  beds  enough 
to  go  round,  or  chairs  enough,  either. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  the  poor  mothers  and 
fathers  are  so  tired  all  the  time  that 
they  just  settle  down,  and  keep  right 
on  being  poor  and  miserable,  because 
there  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  else 
to  do. 

The  fields  are  all  so  steep  and  stony 
that  it  is  very  hard  to  raise  potatoes 
and  corn.  Once  I  heard  that  a  farm  on 
the  side  of  a  hill  was  so  very  steep  that 
one  day  when  the  poor  farmer  was 
ploughing  he  actually  fell  right  out  of 
his  own  farm  down  the  hill ! 

^^It  all  sounds  perfectly  horrid,"  you 
say,  ^^but  maybe  they  spend  lots  of  time 
reading  in  the  lonely-houses-that-have- 
no-neighbors. ' ' 

No,  for  that's  another  unpleasant 
thing  about  being  one  of  these  lonely 
Americans  shut  in  by  the  lonely  hills: 
for  neither  the  mother,  nor  the  father, 
nor  any  of  the  children  can  read  at  all ! 
That  means  they  never  saw  a  Bible, 


House  That  Had  No  Neighbors     165 

most  of  them,  so  they  really  know  next 
to  nothing  about  Grod. 

''Well/'  you  say,  ''I  think  they  need 
a  missionary  or  two!" 

And  that  is  just  what  lots  of  the 
grown-up  people  in  our  church  thought, 
too.  So  they  sent  some  missionaries 
dow^n  among  those  beautiful  mountains 
of  Kentucky,  and  they  gave  them  a 
horse  so  they  could  climb  up  and  down 
the  hills  and  valleys  to  find  all  the 
lonely-houses-that-have-no-neighbors. 

I  think  it  w^as  a  great  surprise  even 
to  our  missionaries  to  find  so  many, 
many  lonely  families  tucked  away  in 
the  woods  and  the  valleys:  vmhappy 
families  who  quarreled,  and  had  no 
funny  little  family  jokes  the  way  our 
families  do.  Families  who  never  read 
books  or  newspapers,  and  so  never  knew 
what  was  going  on  all  over  God's  world 
among  His  Family. 

''We  must  have  a  school  for  them,'' 
said  one  missionary. 

"And  a  church!"  said  another  mis- 
sionary. 


1 66  Twenty-fourth  Story 

''And  a  nurse!"  sighed  a  third  mis- 
sionary, who  found  ever  and  ever  so 
many  sick  people  who  had  no  medicine 
to  take  because  there  was  no  doctor 
anywhere.  ''A  hospital,  too!"  said  the 
first  missionary. 

All  these  things  take  money,  of 
course,  lots  of  money,  but  the  people 
who  go  to  our  church  gave  it,  so  now 
in  those  mountains  there  are  several 
perfectly  good  schools,  full  to  the  brim 
with  nice  little  mountain  girls  and  boys ; 
there  are  nice  little  churches  packed 
with  the  lonely  families  from  houses- 
that-have-no-neighbors.  There  is  a  hos- 
pital, too,  and  a  doctor  and  nurses.  So 
it  isn't  qtiite  as  lonely  in  those  moun- 
tains as  it  used  to  be,  because  our  church 
is  helping. 

But  there  is  lots  to  do  yet,  and  next 
Sunday  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  a 
little  mountain  girl  -  who  -  never  -  said  - 
please ! 


TWENTY-FIFTH  STORY 

"THE  LITTLE  GIEL  WHO  NEVER 
SAID  PLEASE" 


All  over  God's  world  the  same  thing  is  true 
Which  now  I  am  going  to  whisper  to  you: 

"Hearts    like    doors    open   with   ease, 
To  very,  very  little  keys, 
Never  forget  that  two  of  these 
Are :  'I  thank  you'  and  'If  you  please.'  " 

— Selected. 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  Hearts  are  always  red, 
as  of  course  you  know,  and  doors  are  usually  brown ; 
so  now  you  know  how  to  paint  this  picture ! 

167 


^^THE  LITTLE  GIRL-WHO- 
NEVER-S  AID-PLEASE ' ' 

In  the  first  place  it  wasn't  at  all  her 
fault  that  she  never  said  '^Please!''  be- 
cause nobody  ever  taught  her!  She 
never  even  heard  anybody  say  it — 
neither  her  mother,  nor  her  father,  nor 
her  brothers,  nor  her  sisters,  nor  her 
aunts,  nor  her  uncles!  For  the  people 
who  live  in  the  lonely-houses-that-have- 
no-neighbors  have  gotten  into  very  bad 
habits,— they  grab  what  they  want,  and 
are  really  unpleasant  and  impolite  al- 
most all  of  the  time. 

"When  our  missionaries  came  to  the 
mountains  of  Kentucky  they  listened 
and  listened  and  listened,  but  they 
never  heard  anybody  say  ''Please''  or 
''Thank  You/'  So  wlien  I  tell  you 
about  the  Little  Girl-Who-Never-Said- 
Please,  you  must  know  that  she  wasn't 

i68 


Little  Girl  Who  Never  Said  Please     169 

the  only  one,  for  everybody  else  was 
just  like  her  in  that  way. 

To  begin  with,  of  course  she  lived  in 
a  lonely  little  house-that-had-no-neigh- 
bors.  And  there  weren't  enough  beds, 
or  dishes,  or  even  tin  pans !  Speaking 
of  pans^  her  mother  had  to  use  the  same 
pan  to  get  the  water  in  from  the  brook, 
to  mix  the  bread  in,  to  feed  the  cow 
from,  and  to  gather  the  chips  for  the 
fire !  Not  because  she  tvanted  to,  but  be- 
cause there  was  no  other  pan  in  the 
house. 

The  little  girl's  name  was  Sookie. 
One  day  when  she  was  down  by  the 
brook  getting  some  water  in  the  one- 
and-only-tin-pan,  who  should  come  call- 
ing but  one  of  our  missionaries,  on 
horseback. 

This  is  what  Sookie 's  mother  said  to 
our  missionary:  *^How  do,  stranger! 
'Light,  and  hitch  your  beastie!" 

So  our  missionary  got  off  and  hitched 
her  ^^jeastie"  to  a  tree,  and  came  over 
to  shake  hands  with  Sookie 's  mother. 
Sookie  was  far  too  shy  to  come  any 


170  Twenty-fifth  Story 

nearer  than  the  corner  of  the  house, 
where  she  could  "peek''  at  this  lovely 
stranger  with  the  soft  sweet  voice. 

Our  missionary  looked  around  the 
dirty,  ugly,  lonely  little  house  and  de- 
cided she  couldn't  possibly  say  any- 
thing nice  about  that,  so  she  looked  at 
God's  beautiful  world  instead,  and  said : 
* '  What  beautiful  hills  you  can  see  from 
your  front  door!    I  just  love  them!" 

But  Sookie  's  poor  tired  mother  said : 
"Yes,  I  guess  maybe  they  are  pretty  to 
some,  but  I  get  so  tired  it  seems  like 
I  can't  look  up  as  high  as  the  hills.  It 
seems  like  I  just  can't  look  over  'em." 

Do  you  know,  our  missionary  would 
have  given  anything  to  get  out  her 
pocket  handkerchief  and  just  cry  and 
cry?  She  felt  so  sorry  for  Sookie 's 
poor  tired  mother.  But  missionaries 
know  better  than  to  cry  in  public,  so  she 
acted  just  as  cheerful  as  she  could  while 
she  told  about  the  lovely  new  school  for 
boys  and  girls  that  was  to  begin  "day 
after  tomorrow."  She  said  it  wasn't 
a  very  big  school,  so  each  family  could 


Little  Girl  Who  Never  Said  Please     171 

only  send  two  of  their  children,  and  did 
she  have  two  she  wanted  to  send !  You 
ought  to  have  seen  Sookie  come  rushing 
up  then. 

^'Now  mammy,"  she  said,  ^^you  ain't 
aimin'  to  send  only  the  boys,  be  you'? 
You'll  send  me,  won't  youl" 

There  were  five  children  in  the 
family,  and  it  was  hard  to  know  which 
two  to  choose,  but  finally  she  decided 
Sookie  could  go. 

Happy  f  Why  Sookie  was  fairly 
bubbling  with  happiness!  She  could 
hardly  wait  for  school  to  *Hake  up," 
as  they  say  in  the  mountains.  She 
counted  this  way:  ^'Tomorrow  I  eat, 
then  I  sleep,  then  I  comb  my  hair,  and 
then  I  roll  away  to  school!" 

So  when  school  did  begin  no  one  was 
there  earlier  than  Sookie  and  her 
brother.  They  did  one  queer  thing  the 
minute  school  began,  they  took  off  their 
shoes  and  stockings!  You'll  never 
guess  why !  No :  not  because  it  was  too 
warm!  No:  not  because  they  were  im- 
comfortable^    although    I    think    they 


172  Twenty-fifth  Story 

were.  But  that  wasn't  the  real  reason. 
For  they  took  them  off  to  save  them. 
Shoes  and  stockings  are  dreadfully  ex- 
pensive things,  so  expensive  that  Sookie 
was  tvearing  her  mother's,  and  she 
wanted  to  make  them  last  forever  and 
ever,  so  that  is  why  she  took  them  off 
to  save  them. 

Sookie  listened  hard  to  everything 
that  happened  that  day,  and  she  heard 
the  teacher  say  ^^ please"  very  often. 
Then  she  heard  some  of  the  girls  who 
lived  at  the  school  all  the  time  say 
^^ please."  These  girls  came  from  lonely- 
houses-that-had-no-neighbors  far  off  in 
the  hills,  and  they  learned  their  good 
manners  from  our  missionaries.  Sookie 
heard  them  saying:  ^^Oh  please  help  me 
do  this,"  or  ^'Oh  thank  you  so  much  for 
that";  and  somehow  it  sounded  very 
]jice  and  friendly  to  Sookie.  She  de- 
cided to  say  it  herself,  all  the  time. 

She  even  made  her  brothers  and 
sister  say  ^^ Please,"  and  next  Sunday 
I  want  to  tell  you  how  even  the  Sun- 
bonnet  Baby  learned  to  say  ** Please." 


TWENTY-SIXTH  STORY 

THE  SUNBONNET  BABY 


The  Sunbonnet  Babies — God  loves  them,  I  know, 
Loves  babies  and  bonnets  of  gay  calico  I 
How   nice  it   will  be   when   they  go  to   onr   school 
To  sing  and  to  read  and  to  learn  things  by  rule. 


173 


^^THE  SUNBONNET  BABY'' 

Somehow  we  get  so  used  to  seeing 
people  wear  hats,  that  we  think  every- 
body in  God's  Family  wears  them.  Yet 
the  yellow  people  in  faraway  Japan, 
and  the  black  people  in  Africa  never 
wear  hats  at  all,  while  the  brown 
mothers  and  daughters  in  India  just 
pull  part  of  their  dresses  up  over  their 
heads  like  a  shawl.  But  right  here  in 
our  own  country,  in  the  Kentucky 
mountains  where  the  lonely-houses-that- 
have-no-neighbors  are  full  of  little 
girls-who-never-say-please,  the  women 
and  girls  wear  sunhonnets.  You  can  see 
a  picture  of  them  on  your  Take-home 
cards,  and  I  have  a  story  for  you  today 
about  the  Sunbonnet  Baby  who  seems 
to  be  nearly  falling  off  the  back  of  the 
horse. 

One  day  Sookie,  her  sister,  came 
home  from  school,  and  found  the  Sun- 
174 


The  Sunbonnet  Baby  175 

bonnet  Baby  crying  loudly  outside  the 
closed  door  of  their  lonely-house-that- 
had-no-neighbors.  Although  really  it 
was  worse  than  crying,  it  was  liotvling, 
and  nobody  liked  a  Howler,  you  know ! 

So  Sookie  rushed  over:  ^'What  yer 
mean makin'  such  a  racket?''  she  asked, 
shaking  the  Sunbonnet  Baby  hard, 

**Want  ter  git  in  the  house,''  howled 
the  Baby. 

'^Well,  say  *  please'  then,"  Sookie 
commanded.  But  the  Howler  had  never 
heard  of  such  nonsense  before. 

^^Go  ahead— say  ^please!'  " 

^' Why- for  I  say  *  please  I'  "  howled 
the  Sunbonnet  Baby. 

^^Well,"  said  Sookie,  ^^I  learnt  a  nice 
little  poem  at  school  today  that  tells 
why.    You-all  just  listen: 

^^  Hearts,  like  doors,  open  with  ease 

To  very,  very  little  keys : 

Never  forget  that  two  of  these 

Are  ^I  thank  you,'  and  'If  you  please.'  " 

The  Sunbonnet  Baby  had  never  heard 
a  poem  before,  so  she  stopped  howling 


176  Twenty-sixth  Story 

and  actually  smiled.  ^^PleaseV  she 
lisi3ed,  so  Sookie  opened  the  door  to 
the  Lonely-house-that-had-no-neighbors 
and  they  went  in. 

^^Now  that  yer  indoors,  what  do  yer 
wantr'  asked  Sookie. 

The  Sunbonnet  baby  smiled:  *^I 
wants  a  kiss!''  she  said. 

^'A  kiss?''  said  Sookie,  ^^ whatever 
made  yer  think  of  hisses/' 

*^  Missionary  lady  gives  me  kisses— 
I  likes  'em.  I  wants  one  notv.  Where 
is  the  missionary  lady?" 

^^Wliy  she's  not  here,  Baby,  she's  at 
her  home!"  Then  Sookie  sat  down  on 
the  floor  and  began  to  think  about  kisses 
herself.  Had  anybody  ever  kissed  her  ? 
Well,  of  course,  years  and  years  before 
somel)ocly  must  have!  But  somehow 
she  couldn't  remember  about  it,  at  all. 
Her  mother  was  always  too  busy  work- 
ing in  the  garden,  or  making  butter,  or 
weaving,  or  making  candles,  or  cooking, 
to  waste  any  times  on  kisses.  And  her 
father  was  rather  too  cross  to  even 
think    of    kissing    anybody,    and    her 


The  Sunbonnet  Baby  177 

brothers  never  heard  of  such  a  thing, 
maybe.  Suddenly  she  knew  how  badly 
she  wanted  a  kiss,  herself. 

*^I  tell  yer  what,  Baby,"  Sookie  said, 
'^I'U  kiss  yer  myself." 

'*No!  No!"  said  the  Sunbonnet  Baby, 
howling  all  over  again,  ''I  wants  my 
missionary  lady. ' ' 

Just  then  their  mother  rode  up  to  the 
door  on  their  big  bony  horse,  with 
several  baskets  of  berries. 

^'Sookie,"  she  called,  ^'Iin  goin'  to 
the  crossroads,  to  try  an'  sell  these  ber- 
ries!" 

Sookie  ran  over  to  her.  ^^I  reckon 
there's  room  on  the  back  of  the  beastie 
for  me  and  Baby,  we  want  to  go  see  the 
missionary  lady  something  fierce." 

So  up  they  scrambled  on  the  black 
horse,  and  away  they  rode  to  the  cross- 
roads. A  wagon  happened  to  pass  just 
then,  and  Sookie 's  mother  sold  all  her 
berries.  Then  they  rode  to  our  mission- 
ary's house.  It  was  in  her  front  yard 
that  the   Sunbonnet  Baby  almost  fell 


178  Twenty-sixth  Story 

off  the  horse,  she  was  in  such  a  hurry 
for  her  kiss. 

Sookie  called  after  her:  ^^Now,  Baby, 
what  yer  goin'  to  say  to  the  lady  iirst 
offr' 

The  Sunbonnet  Baby  looked  up  at  our 
missionary  and  said:  '^If  you  please!'' 

How  our  missionary  did  kiss  her. 
She  kissed  Sookie,  too.  So  then  Sookie 
said  to  her  mother:  ^^ Mammy  I'm  aim- 
in'  to  kiss  you  every  day  now." 

Something  nice  and  warm  woke  up 
in  the  mother's  heart.  ^*I  reckon  that 
will  be  real  nice,  Sookie,"  she  said,  '^I 
allow  I  clean  forgot  how  nice  kissin' 
was,  I  been  so  busy  and  tired." 

The  Sunbonnet  Baby  looked  up  at  her 
mother:  ''If  you  please,  mammy!''  she 
said. 

So  then  her  mother  kissed  her,  and 
I  guess  everybody  knows  there 's  nobody 
in  the  whole  world  a  baby  would  rather 
kiss  th^n—motlier!  And  it  was  just 
one  more  dear  friendly  thing  that  our 
missionary  had  taught  Sookie 's  family. 


TAVENTY-SEVENTH  STORY 

THE  GET  WELL  ROOM 


This  boy  is  sick,  the  days  seem  long 
Because  inside  him  things  are  wrong. 
But  in  our  Get  Well  Room  he  lies 
And  likes  our  Doctor,  kind  and  wise. 


179 


THE  GET  WELL  ROOM 


?> 


SooKiE  and  the  Sunbonnet  Baby  had 
a  brother  named  Udell,  who  had  been 
very  sick  in  the  lonely-house-that-has- 
no-neighbors ;  he  was  sick  for  a  long 
time  before  our  missionary  nurse  heard 
about  it.  As  soon  as  she  heard,  she  got 
on  her  horse  and  rode  over  the  steep 
stony  hills  to  leave  him  some  medicine 
in  a  bottle. 

You  all  know  how  medicine  bottles 
look,  don't  you  ?  How  they  have  a  piece 
of  i^aper  pasted  on  the  outside  of  the 
bottle  where  the  directions  are  written. 
^^Directions''  are  w^ords  that  tell  you 
how  to  take  the  medicine— how  many 
pills  to  take,  and  whether  to  put  them 
in  water  or  take  them  dry  on  your 
tongue.  Well,  our  missionary  nurse 
left  the  bottle  and  rode  away  hoping  the 
pills  would  help  Udell,  for  she  knew 
how  horrid  it  must  be  to  be  sick  in  one 
of  these  lonely  houses,  where  the  cold 
wind  whistled  through  the  cracks  in  the 

i8o 


The  Get  Well  Room  i8i 

walls  and  the  smoke  from  the  open 
fireplace  made  poor  sick  eyes  water  and 
smart. 

After  she  left  the  mother  who  lived 
in  the  lonely  house  picked  up  the  bottle 
and  remembered  something  our  mission- 
ary had  entirely  forgotten,— she  re- 
membered that  she  could  not  read  a 
single  ivord  of  the  directions  on  the 
bottle! 

^*Why  don't  yer  give  me  my  medi- 
cine, mammy?''  Udell  asked. 

^'I  don't  dast  give  it  to  you,"  his 
mother  said,  ^'for  I  can't  tell  what  this 
here  wa^itin'  on  the  bottle  says." 

^^ Leave  me  look  at  it!"  Udell  said, 
and  by  the  way,  you  can  see  that  Sookie 
had  not  taught  him  to  say  ^^ please"  yet! 
So  Udell  looked,  but  he  could  not  read 
either. 

^^I  reckon  we  wall  just  wait  till  Sookie 
comes  home  from  school  this  afternoon, 
for  Sookie  can  read  most  anything,"  his 
mother  said,  and  she  began  washing  the 
few  old  cracked  dishes  and  her  one  tin 
pan. 


1 82  Twenty-seventh  Story 

But  Udell  was  so  tired  of  being  sick, 
it  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't  wait  all  the 
hours  until  school  was  over,  so  he  did 
what  you  and  I  know  right  away  was  a 
dreadful  thing  to  do :  he  ate  all  the  pills 
at  once!  They  tasted  dreadfully,  and 
of  course  they  made  him  begin  to  feel 
queerer  and  queerer  inside.  He  even 
cried  a  little,  which  boys  don't  generally 
do  unless  things  are  pretty  bad.  His 
mother  was  very  much  scared,  for  when 
Sookie  came  home  from  school  she  read 
off  the  label  on  the  bottle  these  words : 
^'Take  one  pill  in  a  teaspoon  of  water 
every  four  hours/'  And  of  course  you 
remember  Udell  had  eaten  all  the  pills 
at  once,  without  any  water. 

^^I  reckon  you'd  best  take  Udell  on 
the  beastie  right  down  to  the  Hospital, 
mammy,"  said  Sookie.  *^I  reckon  he's 
gettin'  powerful  sick." 

So  the  father  saddled  their  bony  old 
horse,  and  rode  all  the  way  to  the  Hos- 
pital with  Udell  in  his  arms. 

Now  at  our  Hospital  in  the  Kentucky 
mountains   we   have   one   room   called 


The  Get  Well  Room  183 

''The  Get  Well  Room,''  especially  kept 
for  poor  sick  children  like  Udell,  who 
come  from  draughty,  smoky,  lonely  log 
cabins.  Udell  had  never  slept  in  a  clean 
white  bed  before,  although  for  a  long 
while  he  was  so  sick  he  hardly  knew 
where  he  was.  But  by  and  by  he  got 
better,  then  he  liked  to  have  our  nurse 
call  him  ''Dear,''  and  every  time  Sookie 
stopped  in  from  school  to  see  him  she 
would  say:  "I  hope  you  remember  to 
say  'Thank  j^ou'  and  'Please'  to  the 
doctor  and  the  nurse!" 

"Of  course,  I  do,"  Udell  said 
proudly,  "and  I  clean  my  teeth  now 
every  day,  which  is  more  than  you  do !" 

"How  do  you  do  it?"  Sookie  asked 
curiously. 

"This  is  my  very  own  tiooth  brush," 
Udell  explained,  "and  I  just  swish  it 
around  up  and  down,  up  and  down  over 
my  teeth  with  plenty  of  water !  If  you 
say  'please'  to  the  nurse,  maybe  she'll 
give  you  a  brush  of  your  own.  She  says 
I  must  never  let  anybody  else  use  mine, 


never/' 


184  Twenty-seventh  Story 

Our  missionaries  have  brought  some 
very  nice  things  to  Sookie's  family. 
Just  plain  everyday  things  like 
^^  Please/'  and  ^^  Thank  you/'  and 
' '  Kisses, ' '  and ' '  Toothbrushes, ' ' —things 
that  you  and  I  have  always  known  about 
because  there  is  happiness  in  our  homes. 
But  I  almost  think  the  Get  Well  Room 
was  one  of  the  kindest,  loveliest  things 
our  missionaries  thought  of.  For  the 
Get-Sick-Times  would  have  been  dread- 
ful in  the  cold  lonely-house-that-had- 
no-neighbors,  and  the  Getting-Better- 
Times  would  have  seemed  so  long  and 
dreary  there.  Did  you  know  that  the 
children  in  our  churches  and  Sunday 
schools  and  Mission  Bands  gave  their 
offerings  specially  for  this  Get  Well 
Roomi  I  love  to  think  that  you  and 
I  can  have  a  share  in  it,  and  that  every 
day  our  dear  missionaries  are  teaching 
Sookie,  and  Udell,  and  the  Sunbonnet 
Baby,  and  all  the  other  mountain  chil- 
dren, the  nicest  ways  to  say  ^^  Thank 
you!" 


TWTENTY-EIGHTH  STORY 

THE  PEOPLE  WHO  COME  HERE 
IN  BOATS 


From  far  across  the  sea  they  come 
And  live  in  some  unpleasant  slum. 
They  work  all  day  to  make  for  you 
The  things  without  which  you  can't  do: 
Both  clothes  and  coal  and  food  and   shoes, 
And  lots  of  other  things  you  use. 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  You  will  need  lots  of 
colors  for  this  family,  for  all  the  shawls  and  mufflers 
and  skirts  are  very  bright,  and  so  are  the  l)undles. 
They  don't  like  patches,  jjoor  dears,  but  they  look  nice 
in  pictures,  I  think. 


1S5 


^^THE  PEOPLE  WHO  COME 
HERE  IN  BOATS'' 

Just  about  this  time  of  the  year, 
when  summer  comes  around,  ever  and 
ever  so  many  fathers  I  know  have  a  way 
of  saying  to  their  families:  ^^Come  on, 
children!  Let's  pack  up  now,  and  go 
for  our  vacation."  Probably  you  know- 
some  boys  and  girls  who  have  gone 
away  like  that,  do  you? 

Sometimes  they  go  in  the  train,  some- 
times in  automobiles,  sometimes  in  great 
big  boats.  They  travel  for  a  whole 
day,  and  have  a  beautiful  time  after- 
wards playing  in  the  sand,  or  on  the 
farm,  or  in  the  mountains.  But  when 
the  summer  is  over,  they  all  come  back 
home  again;  the  boys  and  girls  go  to 
school,  the  fathers  go  to  business  every 
morning,  and  the  mothers— well,  you 
know  what  mothers  do!  Just  about 
everytJiing,  don't  they? 
z86 


People  Who  Come  Here  in  Boats     187 

I  have  a  stoiy  for  you  today  about  a 
very  di:fferent  kind  of  travel.  Far  away 
over  the  sea  somewhere,  a  father  says 
to  a  mother,  in  one  of  the  languages 
you  and  I  do  not  know,— but  God  knows 
it:  ^* Little  mother,"  says  this  father, 
^4et  us  pack  up  and  go  to  America!'^ 

Then  such  a  babble  of  little  voices! 
^^  Shall  I  need  my  old  patched  coat  in 
America,  mother  % ' '  one  child  asks, ' '  and 
can  I  take  all  the  kittens  V  another  one 
says. 

^^Well,  that's  nice,''  I  hear  you  say, 
^^but  are  they  coming  all  this  way  for 
a  vacation,  just  to  see  the  sights'?" 

Oh  dear  no,  they  are  coming  over 
here  to  live,  but  they  will  be  so  poor 
and  have  to  work  so  hard  that  they  will 
probably  never  get  time  to  see  any  of 
the  sights,  at  all. 

' '  Then  why  do  they  come  if  they  have 
to  work  so  hard?"  you  ask  me. 

Well,  it's  like  this:  over  where  they 
live  the  father  can't  begin  to  make  as 
much  money  as  he  can  here,  he  can't 
buy  enough  food  over  there  to  feed  all 


1 88  Twenty-eighth  Story 

the  hungry  stomachs,  or  enough  clothes 
to  cover  all  the  shivering  backs,  or 
enough  shoes  for  all  the  busy  feet.  So 
he  comes  to  America  because  he  can  get 
more  money  here. 

There  are  white  fathers  from  Italy 
and  Russia,  brown  fathers  from  India 
and  Arabia,  yellow  fathers  from  Japan 
and  China :  just  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  fathers  from  all  over  God's  world 
who  decide  to  come  here  and  live. 

They  load  themselves  down  with  huge 
bundles,  then  they  crowd  themselves 
into  big  boats,  and  the  big  boats  come 
sailing,  and  sailing,  and  sailing  over 
the  blue  ocean  to  America. 

Of  course  you  never  knew  about  it 
before,  but  most  of  the  things  that  we 
have  to  eat  and  to  wear  are  made  by 
these  fathers  who  come  to  America  in 
big  boats. 

The  coal  that  we  burn  in  our  furnaces 
is  mostly  dug  out  of  the  earth  by  the 
fathers  of  little  Slavic  children;  the 
yards  and  yards  of  woolen  and  cotton 
cloth  that  we  see  piled  up  in  our  stores 


People  Who  Come  Here  in  Boats     189 

was  woven  by  the  fathers  and  mothers 
of  little  Bohemian  and  Polish  children. 
For,  oh  yes!  the  mothers  work,  too! 
That  is  because  they  are  so  poor.  Your 
suits  and  coats  that  you  bought  in  the 
store  were  made  by  the  mothers  and 
fathers  of  little  Jewish  children.  Your 
shoes,  your  gloves,  your  father's  collars 
and  cuffs  and  shirts,  your  furniture, 
your  canned  vegetables— really  almost 
everything  in  your  house  was  made  by 
these  fathers  from  over  the  sea.  They 
work  out  in  the  streets,  too,  digging 
away  to  make  streets  and  sidewalks  for 
us. 

It  really  seems  as  if  most  things  we 
use  would  just  stop,  if  these  fathers 
who  came  here  in  boats,  should  suddenly 
decide  to  go  home  again.  But  luckily 
they  want  to  stay,  although  it  certainly 
can't  be  much  fun  for  them  to  work, 
work,  work  in  the  dirty  coal  mines,  or 
the  busy  noisy  factories,  or  even  out  in 
the  muddy  streets  where  they  may  get 
run  over  unless  they  are  careful. 

When  you  go  home  just  look  around 


IQO  Twenty-eighth  Story 

your  home,  and  see  everything  with 
new  eyes.  And  perhaps  when  you  pray 
to  Jesus  tonight  you  will  want  to  say: 
^*  Please  bless  all  the  people  who  came 
to  America  in  boats,  and  who  have  made 
our  shoes  and  our  furniture  and  our 
clothing  for  us." 


TWENTY-XIXTH  STORY 

PIG-TAILS  AND  OTHER  TALES 


This  little  girl  came  here  from  Japan, 
She's  learning  our  ways  as  fast  as  she  can. 
I  think  every  one  of  us  ought  to  think  twice 
Before  we  hurt  her  with  words  that  aren't  nice, 
For  if  we  should  live  in  Japan  for  a  while, 
We'd  find  that  we,  too,  were  all  out  of  style! 

Something  for  you  to  do:  Paint  her  nice  kimono 
and  sash  in  your  two  favorite  colors, 
191 


'^PIG-TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

I  AM  sure  you  have  not  forgotten 
what  I  told  you  last  Sunday  about  the 
fathers  from  all  over  God's  world  who 
came  to  America  in  boats,  bringing  their 
families  with  them,  have  you  ?  Or  how 
almost  everything  we  have  to  eat  and 
wear  and  use  in  our  homes  was  made 
by  them  ? 

Of  course  you  and  I  understand  how 
it  is  that  these  fathers  and  their  chil- 
dren speak  different  languages  from 
ours,  and  dress  differently,  and  act  dif- 
ferently. For  we  know  that  is  the  way 
God  made  His  Family,  the  way  He 
likes  them  to  be,  each  part  of  the  family 
different  from  every  other  part.  Just 
the  way  your  sister  and  brother  don't 
look  exactly  like  you.  Since  it  doesn't 
matter  to  God  what  language  the  people 
192 


Pig-Tails  and  Other  Tales        193 

in  His  Family  speak,  or  how  they  dress, 
it  doesn't  matter  to  you  and  me,  either. 

But  there  are  girls  and  boys  in 
America  who  aren't  polite  enough  to 
overlook  the  way  these  children-from- 
over-the-sea  dress  and  talk.  I  think  it 
must  be  because  they  don't  know  the 
secret  about  God's  Family  that  you 
and  I  know!  For  they  nickname  the 
little  Jewish  children  '^ Sheeny,"  and 
the  Italian  children  ^^ Dagoes,"  and 
the  little  Slavic  children  ^^AYops." 
They  think  they  are  being  very  smart 
and  funny,  and  that  white  children  like 
ourselves  are  the  only  nice  children 
there  are.  You  can  tell  from  all  my 
stories  about  Butterfly,  Ko  -  i  -  chan, 
Rustling  Grass,  Lazy  Legs,  Eamaswami 
and  Anandabai  that  other  children  in 
God's  Family  are  every  hit  as  nice  as 
we  are.    Here  is  a  story  to  prove  it ! 

Once  there  Avas  a  little  girl  from 
Japan  whose  father  worked  in  New 
York  City.  She  went  every  day  to  one 
of  our  public  schools. 

I'm  sure  you  haven't  forgotten  how 


194  Twenty-ninth  Story 

beautifully  polite  everyone  is  in  Japan, 
so  this  little  Japanese  girl  kept  on  being 
beautifully  polite  here  in  America. 
Whenever  she  came  into  the  class-room 
she  bowed  way  over  to  the  teacher,  and 
when  she  stood  up  to  recite  she  bowed 
again  very  politely.  Even  w^hen  the 
little  girls  in  her  grade  spoke  to  her  she 
bowed  to  them.  And  would  you  believe 
it  ?  But  some  of  the  rude  boys  and  girls 
in  her  grade  made  fun  of  her!  They 
made  fun  of  her  dear  Japanese  eyes 
which  slanted  up  at  the  corners.  They 
thought  it  was  very  funny  to  nickname 
her  ^'Slant-Eyes." 

She  was  very  quiet  and  polite,  so  it 
was  no  fun  to  keep  teasing  her  about 
her  eyes,  and  they  made  fun  of  her  dear 
little  blue  kimono  with  the  blue  sash 
and  the  big  sleeves.  * '  Big  Sleeves !  Big 
Sleeves!  Big  Sleeves  has  her  wrapper 
on!'^  they  shouted  in  a  sing-song  way 
after  her,  on  the  street.  I  think  that 
really  hurt  her  feelings,  for  one  day  she 
came  in  an  American  dress  like  yours 
and  mine,  so  then  the  foolish  girls  and 


Pig-tails  and  Other  Tales         195 

boys  began  making  fun  of  her  hair.  It 
was  bobbed  evenly  all  around  her  head, 
except  for  two  long  locks  that  hung  on 
either  side  of  her  face. 

' '  Pig-tails !  Pig-tails !  Funny  little 
Pig-tails''  they  chanted  at  her,  at  re- 
cess ;  until  this  dear  little  Japanese  girl 
from  over  the  sea  began  to  think  it  was 
perfectly  dreadful  to  go  to  school  in 
America. 

But  that  very  night  one  of  the  worst 
little  American  girls,  who  had  started 
all  the  teasing,  had  a  dream.  Although 
she  never  knew  it  was  a  dream  until 
she  woke  up,  of  course. 

Somehow  or  other  Mary  Smith  knew 
she  was  way  over  the  sea  in  Japan.  It 
began  by  her  hearing  Japanese  voices 
saying :  '^  What  a  perfectly  hideous  little 
girl!''  Now  Mary  had  often  heard 
people  tell  her  mother  how  pretty  Mary 
was,  so  she  was  a  little  mad!  The 
Jai^anese  voices  went  on:  ^' Isn't  her 
hair  the  most  ridiculous  color  %  Yellow, 
instead  of  black !  Poor  ugly  girl,  I  even 
believe  her  eyes  are  blue  instead  of 


196  Twenty-ninth  Story 

brown.  Poor  faded  eyes.  They  don't 
even  slant  up  at  the  corners  as  pretty 
eyes  should." 

Then  someone  else  said:  ^'Did  you 
ever  see  anything  so  absurd  as  her 
funny  dress?  Just  look  at  that  big 
white  collar?  What  can  it  be  for ?  To 
keep  her  warm?  And  see  her  tight 
sleeves,  she  can't  carry  even  a  fan  in 
them!  And  dear  me!  Just  look  at 
those  silly  shoes,  tightly  buttoned  all 
the  way  up.  She  must  have  to  wear 
them  right  in  the  house.  I  suppose  she 
has  no  manners  at  all." 

Then  next  Mary  was  in  a  Japanese 
school,  standing  up  to  recite.  And  oh, 
the  mistakes  she  made!  They  actually 
had  to  nudge  her,  and  remind  her  it 
was  very  impolite  to  forget  to  bow  to 
the  teacher.  It  was  also  wrong  to  call 
the  teacher  ^^Miss  So  and  So,"  she 
should  say  ^'Honorable  Miss  So  and 
So."  If  ever  a  little  girl  was  unhappy 
Mary  Smith  was  that  girl,  yet  the 
Japanese  girls  were  very  polite  and 
never  laughed  out  loud. 


Pig-tails  and  Other  Tales        197 

Then  she  woke  up,  and  knew  it  was 
only  a  dream!  But  when  she  got  to 
school  she  told  her  dream  to  all  the  rude 
children  who  had  been  laughing  at  the 
little  Japanese  from  over  the  sea. 

'^ Don't  let's  ever  laugh  or  make  fun 
of  her  any  more,''  said  Mary  Smith. 
'^Why,  I  made  mistakes  every  minute 
in  Japan,  girls,  every  minute!  I 
couldn't  eat  my  rice  with  their  cliop- 
sticks,  I  couldn't  write  in  school  with 
their  'brushes  instead  of  pencils,  I 
couldn't  even  botv  right.  How  do  I 
know  that  her  way  of  doing  these  things 
isn  't  every  bit  as  good  as  our  way  ?  So 
don't  let's  make  fun  of  her  again.  For 
I  tell  you  girls,  it  hurts!'' 

And  they  never  did ! 

I  know  you  never  will,  either. 


THIRTIETH  STORY 


THE  LADY  WITH  THE  WEL- 
COME FEET 


Up  lots  of  stairs  and  down  back  alleys 
Our  fearless  missionary  sallies. 
In  wintry  cold,  in  summer  heat, 
This  Lady-with-the-Welcome-Feet 
Becomes  a  friend  to  all  who  lead 
A  very  lonely  life  indeed. 
I  lilie  to  think  that  through  the  hours 
The  work  she  does  is  really  ours, 
Because  our  church  directs  her  feet 
To  Japanese  on  every  street. 


198 


'^THE  LADY  WITH  THE  WEL- 
COME FEET'' 

I  KNOW  you  have  not  forgotten  my 
stories  about  the  people  who  come  here 
in  boats  from  places  all  over  God's 
world,  and  who  live  in  our  cities,  and 
work  all  day  long  making  the  things  we 
use  every  day.  You  remember  the 
story  about  the  Japanese  girl  in  the 
New  York  school,  too,  don't  you?  And 
the  way  some  of  the  children  made  fun 
of  her  quaint  Japanese  ways,  until  Mary 
Smith  had  an  uncomfortable  dream 
that  she  was  in  Japan,  making  the 
queerest  kinds  of  mistakes  all  day  long ! 

Well,  just  as  Mary  Smith  felt  un- 
comfortable and  lonesome  in  Japan, 
so  the  Japanese  people  feel  ever  so 
uncomfortable  and  lonesome  here  in 
America.  You  see,  they  can't  under- 
stand the  words  we  American  people 
199 


200  Thirtieth  Story 

say,  and  they  can't  read  our  books,  so 
I  guess  you  can  see  what  they  need 
most  of  all  is  a  friend  to  help  them ! 

But  where  can  they  find  this  very 
special  kind  of  a  friend  1  Not  the 
storekeeper  where  they  buy  the  things 
they  eat — for  he,  poor  man,  only  wants 
their  money,  he  hardly  takes  time  to 
notice  that  they  seem  unhappy  and  lone- 
some. And  the  Landlord  isn't  their 
friend,  oh  no !  he  just  wants  their  money, 
too,  and  it  doesn't  matter  to  him  that 
they  are  uncomfortable  in  the  dark,  ugly 
room  in  his  big  dark  ugly  house.  And 
the  Policemeyi  aren't  friends  of  theirs, 
either.  No,  somehow  the  Policemen 
just  finds  fault  with  the  queer  Japan- 
nese  way  they  have  of  doing  things,  and 
because  he  can't  understand  the  very 
polite  words  they  say  in  Japanese,  he 
thinks  they  must  be  saying  something 
dreadful! 

But  I  can  hear  you  say:  ^^But  how 
about  their  neighbors,  can't  they  be 
friends  r' 

Well,  they  could,  of  course,  only  they 


Lady  With  the  Welcome  Feet     201 

don't  very  often  take  time  to  even  think 
about  other  people  who  are  uncomfort- 
able and  lonesome,  because  that  is  the 
way  they  feel  themselves  I  For  they 
are  ever  so  poor,  they  are  crowded  into 
dark,  ugly  rooms,  they  have  to  work 
very  hard  all  day,  and  everything  gets 
so  cluttered  up  and  dirty  that  nobody 
can  feel  very  happy!  One  neighbor 
doesn't  think  very  much  about  another 
neighbor,  I'm  afraid. 

So  I  think  it  is  a  very  beautiful  thing 
that  God  has  put  it  into  the  hearts  of 
some  of  the  people  in  our  church  to 
have  a  missionary  of  our  very  own  to 
go  to  visit  these  Japanese  families  who 
live  in  New  York.  One  of  the  nicest 
parts  about  it,  is  that  they  chose  a 
Japanese  Christian  man  and  his  wife 
to  be  our  missionaries,  because  it  really 
is  a  great  deal  friendlier  for  the  lone- 
some, uncomfortable  people  to  have 
someone  who  knows  all  that  they  know. 

When  the  Japanese  father  goes  to 
work,  and  the  Japanese  children  go  to 
school,   then  the  dear  little  Japanese 


202  Thirtieth  Story 

mother  is  all  alone  in  the  horrid  little 
room  in  the  dirty  big  building.  But  she 
cleans  everything  up  as  spick  and  span 
as  she  can,  and  then,  oh  dear !  she  hears 
a  knock  at  the  door!  She  feels  a  little 
scared,  for  she  doesn't  know  a  single 
word  of  English  except  ^^yes!''  and  of 
course  lots  of  times  ^^yes"  isn't  at  all 
the  proper  thing  to  say  to  strange 
people,  you  know !  So  she  tiptoes  over, 
and  opens  the  door  a  crack,  and  pokes 
out  her  nice  little  nose. 

*^0-hay-o!"  (^^ohio")  says  a  voice  in 
the  dark  hall  outside.  That  means 
^^llow  do  you  do?"  in  Japanese.  Well, 
she  nearly  falls  over  she  is  so  delighted, 
and  in  walks  our  missionary.  They  do 
have  such  a  nice  time  chattering  away 
in  Japanese,  and  bowing  to  each  other. 
Our  missionary  knows  just  how  to  help 
her  best,  and  she  invites  her  to  come  to 
a  special  house  you  and  I  have  in  New 
York,  where  hymns  and  preaching  are 
all  said  in  Japanese.  When  it  is  time 
for  our  missionary  to  hurry  off  to 
another    family,    the    polite    Japanese 


Lady  With  the  Welcome  Feet     203 

mother  says:  ^^Your  honorable  feet  are 
always  welcome  in  my  miserable  room  I'' 

Something  nice  and  warm  sings  in 
her  heart  all  day,  because  she  has  found 
a  friend!  Then  when  she  goes  to  our 
special  house  to  the  service  she  meets 
other  Japanese  people  whom  she  never 
dreamed  lived  in  New  York,  and  she 
learns  about  Jesus.  She  brought  her 
idols  all  the  way  over  from  Japan  with 
her,  but  after  our  ^ ^missionary- with- 
the-welcome-feet^'  visits  her  again  and 
again  and  again,  she  begins  to  love 
Jesus  very  much,  and  before  long  she 
and  her  husband  and  the  children  join 
our  church. 

I  like  to  think  we  have  this  mission- 
ary to  be  friendly  with  all  these  lonely, 
uncomfortable  Japanese  people  in  New 
York,  don't  you?  And  it's  nice  that 
when  they  all  go  back  to  Japan  in  big 
boats  they  will  find  more  missionaries 
of  our  very  own  way  over  there,  too,  and 
a  church  of  our  very  own  to  go  to  on 
Sundays. 


THIRTY-FmST  STORY 

THE  LITTLE  HOUSE  THAT  WAS 
MADE  OUT  OE  ICE 


^UlWvivvv 


UAAAA/l/L  U\* 


This  is  the  home  of  the  small  Eskimo, 

Made  out  of  ice  and  glistening  white  snow. 

There  isn't  niiidi  color  on  anything  there, 

It's  just  as  snow-white  as  this  picture  is  bare. 

204 


^^THE  HOUSE-THAT- WAS-MADE- 
OUT-OF-ICE" 

B'rerrr!  How  would  you  like  to 
be  real,  real  cold  today?  So  cold  that 
you  would  have  to  bundle  up  in  all  the 
warm  clothes  you  have?  I  think  it 
would  be  fun,  so  let's  pretend  we  are 
going  on  a  trip  toward  the  North  Pole, 
to  a  very  cold  country  called  Alaska, 
where  there  is  snow  all  the  year  round, 
both  winter  and  summer. 

Everything  for  miles  and  miles  and 
miles  is  simply  covered  with  glittering 
white  snow,  and  there  can't  be  trains 
or  automobiles  or  wagons  because  there 
are  no  roads.  So  we  will  have  to  ride 
on  a  sled  pulled  by  dogs,  oh  such 
frisky  fierce-looking  dogs!  But  how 
they  can  fly  over  the  snow,  and  never 
dump  you  into  a  snowdrift,  either! 

Way  off  in  the  distance  there  is  a 
funny  little  round  white  mound,  per- 
205 


2o6  Thirty-first  Story 

haps  you  think  it  is  only  a  lot  of  soft 
snow,  but  I  may  as  well  tell  you  right 
away  that  it  is  a  house!  And  it's  all 
made  out  of  ice,  every  bit  of  it,  even 
the  furniture  inside. 

I  can  just  hear  you  saying:  **Dear 
me !  what  a  dreadful  cold  house  it  must 
be,''  but  it  really  is  almost  too  warm 
when  all  the  family  crowd  inside  it.  It 
looks  like  a  giant  white  bowl  turned  up- 
side down,  doesn't  if?  It  is  built  of 
blocks  of  ice,  and  is  called  an  ^4gloo." 
The  doorway  is  made  very  low,  and  the 
family  have  to  crawl  in  on  their  hands 
and  knees.  Just  think  how  much  cold 
air  and  snow  could  blow  in  if  the  hole 
were  larger. 

It  is  very  dark  inside  the  igloo  and 
the  roof  seems  very  low.  There  is  a 
hole  at  the  very  top,  you  can  call  it  a 
chimney  or  a  window,  whichever  you 
like.  All  around  the  edges  of  the  round 
room  is  a  platform  of  ice  on  which  soft 
fur  skins  are  laid  to  make  beds  and 
chairs.  The  table  is  a  slab  of  ice,  on 
which  is  a  dish  made  out  of  bones,  with 


House  That  Was  Made  Out  of  Ice     207 

moss  and  grease  burning  in  it.  Ugh! 
What  a  dreadful  smell  it  makes !  Some- 
how the  oil  heats  up  the  inside  of  the 
igloo,  especially  with  so  many  people  in 
there. 

First  of  all  there  is  somebody,  in  a 
fur  suit  with  fur  trousers,  cooking 
something  over  the  dish  of  burning 
moss  and  grease.  I  suppose  you  would 
never  guess  that  it  is  the  mother  of  the 
family,  on  account  of  her  trousers.  But 
you  see  up  in  Alaska  where  it  is  so  cold 
it  is  a  much  warmer  way  for  her  to 
dress ;  besides  she  never  heard  of  skirts 
until  she  met  a  missionary.  Perhaps 
you  would  notice  a  queer  bumpy-look- 
ing lump  on  her  back,  and  you  would 
feel  sorry  because  she  was  deformed. 
But  that  is  the  baby  in  his  cradle !  You 
can't  imagine  a  cosier,  warmer  cradle 
than  inside  the  back  of  her  nice  fur 
coat. 

In  the  igloo  there  is  an  older  woman 
with  only  two  teeth  left, — that  is  the 
grandmother.  Then  there  is  a  funny 
little  white  ball  which  shyly  keeps  its 


2o8  Thirty-first  Story 

face  turned  from  us— that  is  the  little 
Eskimo  girl.  The  bigger  brown  fur  ball 
is  her  brother.  He  is  shy,  too,  because 
they  have  never  seen  any  other  white 
people,  except  the  missionary. 

They  are  very  kindly  going  to  invite 
us  to  eat  with  them,  but  I^m  wondering 
if  we  will  like  what  they  give  us— for 
so  little  of  their  food  will  be  cooked  I 
They  eat  the  meat  of  the  bear  and  the 
reindeer  without  cooking  it,  and  they 
never  cook  fish,  either.  In  fact  their 
very  name,  ^* Eskimo,"  means  Raw  Fish 
Eater,  They  eat  almost  every  inch  of 
a  seal,  but  although  I  have  heard  that 
the  raw  blubber  of  the  seal  tastes  a  little 
like  fresh  cream,  I  think  neither  you 
nor  I  would  like  the  way  it  smells.  So 
I  am  rather  glad  we  can  get  dinner  in 
our  very  own  homes  today,  because  our 
trip  is  over  for  this  time.  Next  Sunday 
we  will  go  back  again. 


THIRTY-SECOND  STORY 

WHAT  HAPPENS  TO  THE  ES- 
KIMO SUN  IN  WINTER 


\    \ 


Zi^S 


A 


The    Eskimo    sun    fairies    dance    in    tlie 

winter, 
With    colors    enougli    to    scare    even    a 

printer, — ■ 
There's  yellow  and  orange  and  purple  and 

red— 
They    race    up    the    sky,    then    they    race        V^ 

back  to  bed ! 
iTet   even   more   cheerful,   we   understand. 
Are    the    schools    and    the    churches    in 

Eskimo-land. 


Something  for  you  to  do:  Paint  yellow,  orange, 
green,  purple  and  red  streaks  in  the  sky.  Perhaps 
you  could  even  remember  that  grown-up  people  call 
it  "Aurora  Borealis !" 


209 


**WHAT  HAPPENS  TO  THE  ES- 
KIMO SUN  IN  THE  WINTERS' 

Last  Sunday  we  went  on  a  visit  to 
a  queer  little  Eskimo  igloo  up  in  Alaska 
^the  little  round  house-built-of-ice.  I 
suppose  you  remember  how  we  had  to 
travel  on  a  sled  drawn  by  four  or  five 
dogs,  because  Alaska  is  a  country  where 
there  is  snow  all  the  year  round. 

One  very  strange  thing  about  Alaska 
I  did  not  tell  you  last  week,  and  that  is 
about  the  sun.  It  keeps  dark  in  Alaska 
for  three  months  every  winter,  and 
they  do  not  even  see  the  sun.  Then 
after  three  months,  it  begins  to  get  light 
for  a  little  while  at  noon,  and  as  spring 
comes  on  the  days  get  longer  and  longer 
until  at  last  it  hardly  gets  dark  at  all, 
all  day  long.  The  Eskimo  people  hardly 
know  when  to  go  to  bed !  Of  course  that 
part  of  it  is  ever  so  nice  for  the  children, 
but  just  think  how  unpleasant  it  would 
be  to  live  in  a  country  where  it  gets  dark 
six  weeks  before  Christmas,  and  stays 


The  Eskimo  Sun  in  Winter       211 

that  way  for  three  long  bitter  cold 
months. 

It  is  then  that  the  family  stay  in  the 
little  round  ice  igloo,  and  while  the  bone 
dish  of  burning  moss  is  spluttering  and 
making  a  dreadful  smell,  the  children 
sprawl  out  on  the  fur  rugs  and  their 
grandmother  tells  them  this  story  of 
what  happens  to  the  sun  in  winter.  Of 
course  it's  not  true,  for  it's  a  fairy 
story. 

^*Once  upon  a  time  there  was  sun  all 
the  year  round  in  Eskimo-land,  but  that 
was  before  the  fairies  that  live  in  the 
sun  learned  to  dance.  Then  they  were 
good  little  fairies,  who  quietly  went  to 
bed  every  night  when  it  got  dark.  They 
not  only  went  to  bed,  but  they  went  fast 
asleep,  and  they  slept  until  the  sun  said 
^Wake  up,'  then  they  jumped  out  of 
bed  and  put  on  their  pale  yellow  dresses 
and  the  first  thing  the  Eskimo  people 
knew  it  was  morning.  Because  the 
fairies  had  walked  right  in  through  the 
ice  window  and  made  the  darkness 
bright. 


212  Thirty-second  Story 

*'Well  that  was  all  very  nice,  and  the 
way  it  should  be,  but  one  day  the  sun 
said:  'Dear  Sun  Fairies,  I  am  going  to 
be  away  longer  than  overnight  this 
time.  It  will  be  months  before  I  get 
back,  because  I  am  going  to  make  things 
especially  hot  on  the  other  side  of  the 
world.  While  I  am  gone  I  expect  every 
one  of  you  to  stay  in  bed.  I  don't  want 
these  Eskimo  people  to  see  you  at  all 
until  I  get  back.  It  will  do  them  good 
to  be  in  the  dark  for  a  while,  do  you 
understand?' 

'^  ^Oh  yes,  sir,  we  understand!'  sang 
the  fairies,  and  shut  their  eyes  tight, 
pretending  they  were  fast  asleep.  But 
they  squinted  enough  to  see  the  sun 
packing  up  for  his  hottest  trip  some- 
where. Then  off  he  tiptoed,  and  Es- 
kimo-land was  ever  so  dark.  Dark  like 
it  is  today.  Eskimo  people  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  it.  They  did  not 
know  whether  it  was  day  or  night. 
They  just  liatod  it. 

''The  fairies  hated  it,  too.  But  they 
kept  on  staying  in  bed,  only  they  had 


The  Eskimo  Sun  in  Winter       213 

their  eyes  wide  open.  ^I  can't  stand 
this  any  longer,'  said  one  fairy,  'this  is 
too  dismal  for  words.'  So  she  slipped 
out  of  bed  and  put  on  her  yellow 
dress  and  skipped  right  up  the  sky! 
But  all  the  time  she  kept  whisper- 
ing a  soft  ' S'sW  to  the  clouds  and  the 
stars,  it  sounded  like  silk  rubbing  on 
silk,  and  they  knew  it  meant:  'Don't 
tell  on  me  for  doing  this,  will  you?' 
Then  up  jumped  another  fairy:  'I'm 
all  slept  out,  too!'  she  whispered,  and 
she  put  on  Iter  yellow  dress  and  danced 
up  in  the  sky,  whispering  'S'sJi/  Then 
all  the  fairies  got  up,  and  some  put  on 
red  dresses  and  some  put  on  green  ones 
and  some  put  on  violet  ones,  and  they 
all  danced  in  the  sky. 

"Then  the  Eskimo  people  rushed  out 
of  their  dark  igloos  to  see  the  beautiful 
lights  in  the  sky.  '  It  is  the  sun  fairies ! ' 
they  shouted  to  each  other,  but  the 
dancing  fairies  whispered  ^S'sh/ 

"Well,  every  winter  since  then  the 
fickle  sun  has  left  the  Eskimo-land  for 
some  other  place,  but  just  as  often  as 


214  Thirty-second  Story 

they  dare  the  sun  fairies  dance  in  the 
sky  in  their  brightest  dresses,  and  you 
can  still  hear  them  say  'S'sh/  '^ 

How  the  Eskimo  children  did  love  the 
grandmother's  story !  There  is  just  this 
much  truth  in  it,  that  during  the  three 
long  dark  winter  months  there  really 
are  great  northern  lights  in  the  sky 
called  Aurora  Borealis,  and  if  you  listen 
very  hard  you  really  can  hear  some- 
thing that  sounds  like  silk  rubbing  on 
silk.    Even  the  missionaries  say  so. 

The  missionaries  don't  like  the  dark 
winter  months,  either,  but  the  Eskimo 
people  love  the  mission  schools  and 
churches  after  they  got  used  to  the  idea. 
But  it  was  hard  work  to  do  it,  oh  so 
hard !  Then,  too,  one  church  ran  away, 
and  another  was  eaten  tip  hy  dogs!! 
Yes,  that  is  really  true,  even  if  does 
sound  queer :  for  one  church  was  carried 
away  by  a  great  stream  of  water,  and 
the  other  was  made  of  whalebone  cov- 
ered with  seal  skins,  and  some  hungry 
dogs  really  did  gobble  it  up  for  their 
supper. 


THIRTY-THIRD  STORY 

TOTEM  POLE  LAND 


CS>' 


A  totem  pole  is  a  family  tree 
Showing  an  Indian's  An-ces-try. 
Here  are  some  bears,  and  here  arf 

some  birds 
Telling     his     story     without     any 

words. 


[^ 


X 


Something  for  you  to  do:  Use 
your  very  brightest  greens  and 
reds  and  blues  and  yellows  to 
paint  these  hideous  heads.  Aren't 
they  fierce? 

215 


** TOTEM  POLE  LAND'' 

For  two  Sundays  we  have  been  on  a 
visit  to  a  very,  very  cold  part  of  Alaska 
where  the  Eskimos  live;  so  today  we 
will  visit  another  part  of  Alaska,  where 
there  is  snow  only  in  winter,  and  where 
trees  and  grass  and  vegetables  can  grow 
in  the  summer,  and  men  can  get  wood 
to  build  their  houses,  instead  of  using 
blocks  of  ice ! 

Their  houses  are  not  at  all  pretty,  we 
would  call  them  sliantieSy  but  in  front 
of  some  of  the  houses  stand  the  queerest 
poles  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life! 
Very  tall  poles  with  queer  carved  faces 
on  them,  the  faces  often  painted  red, 
black,  blue,  yellow  or  green. 

**What  can  they  be  for?"  I  hear  you 

ask.    Well,  a  totem  pole  is  simi)ly  the 

way  these  Alaskans   have   of  writing 

down  their  family  names  and  histories  1 

216 


Totem  Pole  Land  217 

Every  family  believes  that  way,  way 
back  there  was  an  mwual  member  of 
their  family,  maybe  it  was  a  hear,  so 
the  bear  is  carved  at  the  top  of  the  pole. 
Then  someone  from  a  hear  family  mar- 
ried someone  from  a  raven  family,  so 
then  a  big  ugly  bird  is  added  to  the 
pole;  after  which  comes  a  history  of 
family  events  in  other  carvings.  After 
it  is  all  done,  he  paints  it  in  bright 
colors  and  jouts  it  up  in  front  of  his  log 
cabin  and  feels  ever  so  proud  of  it. 

In  Alaska  they  eat  a  great  many  ani- 
mals we  never  see  except  in  the  Zoo. 
Seals  and  whales  and  bears.  A  man 
who  has  a  bear  carved  at  the  top  of  his 
totem  pole  has  to  be  almost  dying  from 
hunger  before  he  would  think  of  eating 
bear  meat!  If  it  should  happen  that 
there  was  absolutely  nothing  else  to  eat, 
and  he  was  simply  starving,  then  he 
migJit  eat  just  a  little  bit  of  bear  meat, 
but  he  would  feel  very  badly  about  it 
and  say:  ^^I  am  so  sorry  to  have  to  eat 
my  friends!' ' 

This  grown-up  man  is  very  sure  that 


2i8  Thirty-third  Story 

all  kinds  of  dreadful  evil  spirits  live 
in  the  air  and  the  trees  and  the  water. 
When  the  sun  is  setting  he  is  afraid 
that  wicked  goblins  may  be  dancing 
right  into  his  house,  and  when  night 
comes  on  he  thinks  he  can  hear  horrible 
demons  howling  in  the  darkness.  So  it 
is  no  wonder  that  when  he  is  so  afraid 
of  evil  spirits,  all  his  children  are  dread,^, 
fully  afraid  too. 

When  someone  in  an  Alaskan  family 
gets  sick  they  send  for  a  ^^medicine- 
man!'' He  is  a  fearful  sight,  for  his 
face  is  painted  in  all  sorts  of  colors,  and 
he  wears  a  big  jingling  necklace  of 
bear's  teeth  around  his  neck,  and  on 
his  head  are  reindeer  horns ! 

He  comes  dancing  into  the  little  house 
beating  noisily  on  a  drum:  Thumpety- 
thump !  Thumpety-thump !  You  see  he 
thinks  an  evil  spirit  has  gotten  into  the 
sick  person,  and  he  is  trying  to  drive 
it  away. 

I  am  glad  that  there  are  missionaries 
in  Alaska  to  tell  all  these  poor  scared 


Totem  Pole  Land  219 

people  that  God^s  world  is  packed  with 
love  and  goodness,  so  they  need  not  be 
afraid.  As  soon  as  the  Alaskans  know 
about  Jesus  they  love  Him  just  the  way 
you  and  I  do. 


THIRTY-FOURTH  STORY 

HOW  WE  GET  OUR  PINK  FISH 


The  fishes  called  salmon  are  always  quite  pink, 
And  they  taste  very  nice,  so  most  people  think! 
They're  caught  in  Alaska,  in  wild  rocky  rivers, 
So  dang'rous  it  gives  us  comfortable  shivers. 
In  many  a  factory  all  over  that  land 
Ten  thousand  pink  salmon  are  now  being  canned. 


220 


^^HOW  WE  GET  OUR  PINK 
FISH" 

We  have  been  having  very  short  little 
vacation  trips  to  Alaska  every  Sunday 
recently,  so  today  I  thought  I  would 
take  you  fisJimg  up  there ! 

It  is  going  to  be  far  more  exciting 
than  any  fishing  you  ever  heard  of  be- 
fore, so  perhaps  it  would  be  better  for 
us  just  to  watclL  To  begin  with,  we 
shall  see  the  father  of  the  family  get 
out  his  canoe,  which  he  made  by  him- 
self, out  of  skins.  It  is  so  light  that 
he  can  carry  it  on  his  back  from  his 
house  to  the  river,  yet  it  is  so  strong 
that  his  wife  and  the  three  children  can 
sit  in  it. 

Even  his  little  son  knows  how  to  pad- 
dle the  canoe,  for  he  often  has  to  go 
out  all  alone  to  catch  some  pink  fish  for 
supper.  Pink  fish  are  called  salmon: 
I  wonder  if  you  ever  ate  one?  When 
the  little  Alaskan  boy  goes  out  all  alone, 
he  does  not  take  a  fishing  rod  with  hook 

221 


222  Thirty-fourth  Story 

and  line  as  a  white  boy  would,  because 
he  spears  the  fish ! 

It  is  quite  hard,  for  he  has  to  stand 
up  in  the  front  of  the  tippy  canoe,  with 
his  spear  in  his  hand.  There  is  a  line 
fastened  to  the  end  of  the  spear,  so  that 
he  can  pull  it  back  after  he  has  thrown 
it. 

Along  swims  a  nice  fat  pink  salmon, 
very  fast.  S})las]i!  Zip!  The  boy  has 
thrown  the  spear,  and  hit  the  fish,  and 
in  a  minute  there  is  the  big  pink  salmon 
squirming  wildly  around  in  the  canoe. 
Now  that  he  has  caught  the  family 
supper,  he  hurries  home  with  it ! 

But  even  that  is  easy,  just  catching 
one  fish  for  supper,  compared  to  what 
the  father  does  when  he  spends  day 
after  day  catching  pink  fish,  for  of 
course  he  can't  stay  in  one  place  all  the 
time,  he  has  to  go  down  the  river  in  his 
canoe.  The  river  is  full  of  rocks  and 
the  water  rushes  over  the  rocks  with  a 
tremendous  noise !  Swish,  swash,  swirl, 
bang,  zip,  bang,  swirl,  swish,  swash !  It 
really  looks  as  if  no  canoe  could  possibly 


How  We  Get  Our  Pink  Fish      223 

get  through  such  angry  wild  water. 
The  little  boat  tosses  around,  this  way 
and  that  way,  but  the  father  knows  how 
to  guide  it  and  finally  he  reaches  calmer 
water  where  there  are  many  pink 
salmon. 

The  next  time  you  go  to  the  grocery 
store  on  an  errand  for  mother,  I  wish 
you  would  find  the  shelf  where  there 
are  rows  and  rows  of  cans  marked 
^^ Salmon.''  On  each  one  will  be  a  pic- 
ture of  a  big  pink  fish  which  some  nice 
Alaskan  father  caught  for  you  and  me 
to  eat. 

And  I  think  maybe  an  Alaskan 
mother  in  a  salmon  factory  cut  up  the 
pink  fish  and  put  it  into  the  cans  which 
you  can  see  in  your  grocery  store.  It 
is  not  very  nice  in  the  salmon  factory, 
for  it  smells  of  all  the  fish,  but  she  is 
poor  and  needs  the  money  for  her 
family.  But  I  think  when  her  children 
grow  up  maybe  they  will  have  a  better 
time,  because  they  can  go  to  the  mission 
school,  and  learn  to  read  and  to  play 
and  to  worship  God. 


THrUTY-FrPTH  STOUY 

IN  A  CHINESE  KITCHEN 


On  the  wall  of  the  kitchen  this  idol  is  pasted, 
And  once  every  day  some  good  rice  is  wasted 
By  filling  the  bowl,  which  is  placed  on  the  shelf, 
As  if  the  old  idol  could  eat  it  himself! 
Of  course  being  ])aper,  he  can't  eat  at  all, 
He  can't  even  Ijudge  from  his  place  on  tlie  wall ! 


Something  for  you  to  do:  You  can't  possibly  put 
too  many  different  colors  on  the  idol,  for  every  bit 
of  his  dress  and  his  hat  are  a  different  shade! 

224 


^^IN  A  CHINESE  KITCHEN" 

I  AM  going  to  take  you  into  a  Chinese 
kitclien  today,  and  show  you  a  little 
Chinese  girl  who  is  watching  the 
Chinese  cook  get  dinner  ready.  Most 
of  the  boys  and  girls  in  God's  Family 
about  whom  I  have  told  you  so  far  have 
rather  pretty  names,  like  Butterfly,  and 
Rustling  Grass  and  Sookie,  but  nobody 
could  possibly  like  the  name  of  this 
little  Chinese  girl,  she  didn't  like  it  her- 
self, for  it  was  ''Not  Wanted,'' 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  when 
she  was  born  her  father  and  mother  had 
three  little  daughters  already,  and  had 
hoped  the  new  baby  would  be  a  Ijoy.  So 
when  they  found  they  had  another  girl 
they  didn't  much  care  what  they  called 
it,  because  she  really  was  ' '  not  wanted. ' ' 
That  seems  as  good  a  name  as  any  to 
show  the  gods  they  weren't  very  well 
pleased.  But  now  ''Not  Wanted"  had 
225 


226  Thirty-fifth  Story 

no  father  and  mother,  any  more,  and 
lived  with  her  grandmother,  and  you 
will  see  that  the  poor  dear  was  ^^not 
wanted'^  there,  either! 

So  now  let  us  go  back  to  the  Chinese 
kitchen,  which  we  will  find  very  differ- 
ent from  ours.  For  one  thing  the  win- 
dows are  made  of  paper,  so  they  do  not 
let  in  very  much  light,  but  oh !  so  much 
cold  air!  The  kitchen  range  is  not 
bright  and  shining  like  the  one  in  your 
house,  but  it  is  built  of  earth  and  bricks, 
and  they  call  it  a  Kang.  On  the  wall 
above  it  is  a  little  shelf,  where  the  pic- 
ture of  a  perfectly  hideous  man  is 
pasted,  he  is  all  shades  of  red  and  blue 
and  yellow  and  green.  You  will  be  ter- 
ribly surprised  to  know  that  ^^Not 
Wanted''  took  a  little  bowl  of  rice,  and 
laid  it  on  the  shelf  before  him,  saying 
in  Chinese: 

*^Come  God  of  the  Kitchen, 
Oh,  Grandfather  Chang! 

Come,  here  is  your  pudding 
And  here  is  your  fang. 


In  a  Chinese  Kitchen  227 

Go  fly  up  to  heaven 

Begone  in  a  trice 
Forget  all  the  bad 

And  tell  only  what's  nice/' 

[Translated  by  Isaac  T.  Headland] 

So  you  surely  have  guessed  that  the 
horrid  old  paper  picture  is  really  an 
idol,  a  paper  kitchen  god  to  whom  the 
Chinese  offer  rice  every  day  because 
they  think  he  spends  his  nights  up  in 
heaven  telling  about  them,  and  if  they 
give  him  rice  maybe  he  will  tell  only  the 
good  things.  Once  a  year  they  get  a 
new  paper  god  for  the  kitchen. 

But  even  stranger  than  the  kitchen 
was  the  dinner  which  was  not  at  noon, 
nor  in  the  evening,  but  in  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon,  for  in  China  they  only 
have  two  meals  a  day,  the  first  is  called 
*' early  rice''  and  the  second  is  called 
**late  rice."  They  eat  rice  so  much  in 
China  that  they  talk  about  it  a  great 
deal,— instead  of  saying  ^>good  morn- 
ing" to  their  friends,  they  say  **Have 
you  eaten  your  rice?"    And  once  when 


228  Thirty-fifth  Story 

^^Not  AVanted'^  fell  down  and  broke  her 
right  hand  everybody  said:  '^  *Not 
AVanted'  has  broken  her  rice  hand"— 
because,  you  see,  everybody  eats  rice 
with  the  right  hand ! 

So  this  was  '^late  rice''  they  were  go- 
ing to  have,  and  you  never  saw  so  many 
women  and  girls  as  sat  down  at  the 
table  with  her!  You  might  almost 
think  it  was  a  boarding-house,  but  it 
was  only  her  grandmother,  her  sisters, 
her  aunts  and  cousins  who  all  lived  in 
the  same  house,  and  ate  their  meals  to- 
gether, while  the  grandfather,  uncles 
and  boy  cousins  lived  in  other  rooms  far 
distant  where  the  women  never  went. 

Each  little  sister  and  cousin  and  aunt 
took  a  bowl  from  a  side  table  and  filled 
it  from  the  great  wooden  bucket  of 
steaming  rice,  over  which  they  poured 
the  juice  and  leaves  of  some  boiled  cab- 
bage. Then  they  each  picked  up  a  pair 
of  chop  sticks,  and  sat  down  at  the 
table.  They  held  the  bowls  close  to  their 
mouths,  and  pushed  the  food  into  their 
mouths  with  the  chopsticks.    They  have 


In  a  Chinese  Kitchen  229 

a  funny  proverb  in  China  which  says: 
*^Tlie  stomach  loves  surprises/'  and  I 
think  a  Chinese  stomach  gets  them! 
For  besides  the  rice  they  eat  bamboo 
sprouts,  raw  fish,  salted  squash  seeds, 
candied  lotus  roots,  eggs  that  are  really 
very  old,  and  queer  sticky  dishes  with 
vermicelli  floating  around  in  it.  When 
they  have  chicken,  they  throw  the  bones 
under  the  table,  even  the  grandmother! 
Never  once  during  the  meal  was  there 
a  time  w^hen  thanks  were  spoken  to  the 
kind  Father  in  Heaven  who  sent  them 
this  food,  because  in  China  the  people 
do  not  know  about  God  at  all,  they  only 
worship  idols,— QYen  in  the  room  where 
they  are  eating  this  queer  meal,  there 
was  a  hideous  brass  idol  sitting  up  on 
a  shelf  and  staring  straight  across  the 
room  with  his  ugly  brass  eyes. 

There  was  one  thing  about  ^^Not 
Wanted '^  that  nobody  liked,  and  that 
was  her  temper!  She  kept  losing  it,  all 
the  time;  although  you  could  really 
hardly  say  it  was  lost  when  you  could 
hear   it   slamming   doors,   and   saying 


230  Thirty-fifth  Story 

cross  words,  and  slapping  people,  and 
being  really  a  very  noisy,  disagreeable 
temper !  It  made  her  family  keep  right 
on  not  wanting  ^^Not  Wanted,"  al- 
though I  think  it  was  partly  their  fault, 
because  they  never  loved  her  enough  or 
spoke  gently  to  her. 

I  told  you  that  her  own  mother  and 
father  had  died,  and  by  this  time  her 
grandmother  was  so  tired  of  this  cross- 
patch  granddaughter  that  one  of  her 
uncles  finally  said:  ^^ Tomorrow  I  will 
try  to  sell  the  little  nuisance,  or  else  I 
will  give  her  to  those  white-faced  mis- 
sionaries to  keep.  So  don't  worry  any 
more  about  her,  honorable  mother,  I 
will  surely  get  rid  of  her  tomorrow  for 
you!" 

So  all  that  night  poor  little  **Not 
Wanted"  cried  and  cried,  although  she 
did  it  very  quietly,  because  her  grand- 
mother kept  a  stick  on  hand  to  beat  the 
children  if  they  cried  too  loud. 

**Not  Wanted"  had  heard  the  most 
dreadful  stories  about  our  missionaries. 
She  had  heard  that  they  took  out  the 


In  a  Chinese  Kitchen  231 

black  eyes  of  little  yellow  Chinese  girls 
and  sent  them  over  to  America  for  the 
poor  white  girls  whose  ugly  eyes  were 
blue !  She  had  even  heard  that  the  mis- 
sionaries cut  up  little  Chinese  girls  into 
tiny  pieces  and  put  them  in  medicine 
bottles  to  send  to  America  for  medicine ! 
Did  you  ever  hear  such  nonsense  ?  But 
poor  little  ^'Not  Wanted"  believed 
every  word  of  it,  so  no  wonder  she  cried 
all  night  long. 


THIRTY-SIXTH  STORY 


THE    DRAGON    THAT 

SWALLOWS  THE 

SUN    EVERY    DAY 


Havo   you   evor  heard   that  tlie 

Chinese  say 
That    a    dragon    swallows   the    snn 

every  day? 
They  used  to  believe  it— yes,  every 

word,  , 

But  now  lots  of  Chinese  about  God  have 

heard. 
And  soon  the  old  tale  will  be  only  a  myth 
On  rainy  days  to  amuse  children  with. 

232 


^^THE  DRAGON-THAT-SWAL- 
LOWS-THE-SUN-EVERY- 
DAy 

Last  Sunday  I  told  you  about  a  little 
Chinese  girl  named  ''Not  Wanted''  who 
had  such  a  horrid  temj^er  that  her  uncle 
was  either  going  to  sell  her,  or  give  her 
to  a  missionary.  Poor  ''Not  Wanted" 
hardly  knew  which  of  the  two  dreadful 
things  she  would  rather  have  happen, 
so  I  fear  she  was  ever  so  happy  the  next 
day  when  her  uncle  had  a  perfectly  ter- 
rible tootliache.  He  groaned  and  he 
moaned  all  day  long,  and  of  course 
could  not  think  of  leaving  the  house. 

"But  I  shall  be  well  tomorrow!"  he 
said  crossly,  so  poor  "Not  Wanted"  felt 
unhapi^y  all  over  again. 

Now  it  happened  that  on  this  very 
day,  queer  old  Blind  Chun,  the  Story 
Teller,  came  into  their  courtyard,  feel- 
ing his  w^ay  with  a  stick.  The  grand- 
233 


234  Thirty-sixth  Story 

mother  and  the  aunts  hobbled  away  to 
find  pieces  of  cash,  which  they  gave  him 
so  he  would  tell  them  stories. 

This  is  one  of  the  stories  he  told, 
which  everyone  had  heard  lots  of  times 
before — it^s  only  a  fairy  story  to  us, 
but  most  of  them  believed  it,  I  think! 
^^ Celestial  ladies!''  said  Blind  Chun 
bowing  very  low,  ^'I  would  fill  your 
worshipful  ears  with  a  story  of  the 
great  god  Pwan-Ku.  For  be  it  known 
to  you  that  at  the  beginning  of  time  the 
great  god  Pwan-Ku  formed  the  earth 
with  hammer  and  chisel.  He  toiled  and 
he  worked  for  eigliteen,  tliousand  years, 
and  each  day  that  he  worked  he  got  six 
feet  larger  than  he  was  the  day  before ! 
Finally  he  got  so  very  big,  that  to  make 
room  for  him  the  heavens  began  rising 
way,  way  up  in  the  air  and  the  earth 
grew  larger  and  larger.  Then  when  the 
heavens  were  round  and  the  earth  was 
smooth,  he  died.  I  tell  you  the  truth, 
when  I  say  that  his  giant  head  became 
mountains ;  his  mighty  breath  the  great 
winds  and  clouds ;  and  his  voice  became 


Dragon  That  Swallows  the  Sun     235 

the  tliimder.  His  arms  and  legs  were 
the  four  poles ;  his  veins,  the  rivers ;  his 
muscles,  the  hills;  and  his  flesh,  the 
fields.  His  eyes  became  the  stars;  his 
skin  and  hair,  the  grass  and  trees ;  and 
the  insects  which  he  touched  became 
people.  Surely  I  speak  only  the 
truth  !^' 

The  minute  he  was  through  ^^Not 
Wanted''  spoke  up!  ^^Oh  but.  Blind 
Chun,^^  last  time  you  told  us  a  very  dif- 
ferent story  about  the  earth,  and  I  don't 
see  how  hotli  can  be  true.  You  said 
before,  that  the  whole  earth  was  built 
on  the  back  of  a  perfectly  huge  dragon/' 

Blind  Chun  scratched  his  old  head, 
and  smiled:  ^'Your  ears  are  as  long  as 
the  roof  tree  of  a  jDagoda,  young  lady! 
I  fear  you  have  stored  too  much  wis- 
dom in  your  stomach !  But  both  stories 
are  quite  true,  for  the  earth  is  indeed 
built  on  top  of  the  great  dragon  who 
swallows  the  sun  every  day!" 

^' Hurry  up  and  tell  us  about  that!" 
said  ^^Not  Wanted." 

So   Blind   Chun   said:   ^^Way   down 


236  Thirty-sixth  Story 

under  the  earth  the  dragon  lies  asleep. 
Some  people  say  it  is  a  giant  turtle— 
maybe  so.  Anyhow  it  doesn't  do  to  dig 
down  very  far  in  the  earth  because  if 
you  tickle  his  ribs,  he  will  wake  up  and 
be  very  angry.  He  rolls  over,  and  then 
that  makes  an  earthquake.  Buildings 
topple  over,  and  people  get  hurt.  It  has 
often  happened.  When  the  white 
Christian  jjeople  built  their  schoolhouse 
they  dug  way  down  in  the  ground  to 
make  a  cellar.  They  did  not  know  what 
we  Chinese  people  know  about  the 
dragon,  so  down  they  dug  and  will  you 
believe  me"?  The  dragon  snorted  and 
snorted ;  the  Christians  said  it  was  only 
a  thunder  storm,  but  he  did  it  to  show 
them  he  was  furious.'' 

^^My!  what  a  tremendous  big  dragon 
he  must  be !"  said  ^^Not  Wanted,"  shud- 
dering. 

^'Yes,  he  is  just  as  big  as  the  earth!" 
said  Blind  Chun.  ^^When  it  rains,  the 
dragon  is  playing  with  his  pearls, 
splashing  them  on  the  earth  for  the  fun 
of  seeing  them  bounce  back.    And  every 


Dragon  That  Swallows  the  Sun     237 

eingle  night  he  wakes  up,  opens  his  big 
jaws  and  swallows  up  the  sun.  He  has 
his  spirit  servants— wind  and  water, 
thunder  and  lightning.  Everybody  in 
China  knows  this  is  true,  because  the 
old  Chinese  flag  had  a  picture  of  the 
dragon  swallowing  the  sun  on  it." 

But  one  of  the  boy  cousins  who  went 
to  school  said:  ^^But  China  has  a  new 
flag  now,  sir,  with  five  stripes :  red,  blue, 
yellow,  white  and  black.  And  I  have 
heard  it  is  all  nonsense  about  the 
dragon!'^ 

^^That  is  the  way  with  life!''  said 
Blind  Chun,  as  he  left,  *^the  young 
people  think  they  know  everything. 
These  stories  sound  true,  don't  they?" 

^*Not  very!"  said  the  young  cousin, 
but  ^^Not  Wanted"  said:  ^' Can't  you 
come  again  tomorrow  '^  I  'm  hoping  my 
uncle  won't  be  over  his  toothache!" 

Which  was  not  very  kind  of  her,  was 
it? 


THIRTY-SEVENTH  STORY 

TURTLE   TALES  AND   CHICKEN 
TAILS 


V 


tf 


I  think  this  tale  teaches  something  quite  right 
That  to  older  people  we  be  most  polite : 
There's  room  in  God's  world  for  everyone  here, 
And  we'll  be  old,  too,  in  some  far-away  year! 


238 


^^TUETLE-TALES  AND  CHICKEN 
TAILS'' 

A  Chinese  toothache  can  hurt  even 
worse  than  an  American  one,  because 
no  one  knows  what  to  do  for  it,  so  the 
poor  uncle  of  our  little  Chinese  friend 
^^Not  Wanted"  had  such  a  big  swollen 
cheek  that  he  simply  could  not  leave 
the  house  to  take  her  anywhere  to  get 
rid  of  her,  as  he  had  threatened.  *^Not 
Wanted"  was  perfectly  delighted,  espe- 
cially as  Blind  Chun,  the  Story  Teller, 
came  groping  his  w^ay  into  their  court- 
yard again.  The  grandmother  and  the 
aunts  found  some  more  Chinese  cash  for 
him,  so  he  started  right  in  with  this 
Turtle  Tale,  which  they  had  heard  many 
times  before,  of  course: 

^'Once  upon  a  time  there  was  an  old 

farmer  named  Ah-Po,  who  lived  five 

hundred     years     ago.       Ah-Po     knew 

everything.     The  people  would  say  to 

239 


240  Thirty-seventh  Story 

him:  'Will  it  rain  todays  and  he  would 
answer:  'Not  today,  bnt  you  will  need 
yovir  bamboo  hats  at  this  time  tomor- 
row.' Well,  one  day  Ah-Po  caught  a 
big  mountain  turtle.  It  was  so  very 
large  that  it  took  both  of  Ah-Po 's  sons 
to  carry  it  home. 

''  'We  will  not  kill  the  turtle/  said 
Ah-Po,  'for  he  is  too  old  to  eat.  We 
will  keep  him  and  watch  the  rings  grow 
round  his  legs  each  year. '  So  they  gave 
him  a  nice  corner  in  the  barnyard,  and 
fed  him  rice  and  water. 

"Now  Ah-Po  kept  many  chickens, 
and  for  three  months  the  turtle  and  the 
chickens  lived  quite  happily  together. 
Then  one  day  the  young  chickens 
walked  up  to  the  turtle  and  began  to 
laugh  at  him.  'Aren't  you  ever  going 
back  to  your  own  homeT  they  asked. 
'You  are  so  large  that  you  take  up  some 
of  our  room.  We  need  it  all.  You  fool- 
ish old  thing,  do  you  suppose  our  fathers 
and  mothers  want  youf  No,  not  one 
of  us  likes  to  even  see  you  around.  I 
suppose  it  will  be  years  before  you  die. 


Turtle  Tales  and  Chicken  Tails     241 

Yet  nobody  likes  you!  You  are  not 
clean,  you  make  too  much  dirt.  Look 
at  your  water  bowl  this  minute,  it  is 
upside  down,  and  your  rice  bowl  is  all 
mussy,  with  rice  on  our  floor.  Too 
many  flies  come  here  to  see  you,  none 
of  our  family  like  flies!' 

**Well,  the  turtle  waited  until  the 
silly  young  things  had  finished  scolding, 
then  he  said :  '  Do  you  think  I  came  here 
myself?  Who  put  me  here?  Do  you 
suppose  I  like  being  cooped  up  here  in 
jail?  I  never  eat  any  of  your  rice,  and 
I  never  disturb  any  of  you.  If  our 
master  sold  your  whole  family  he  would 
only  get  one  piece  of  silver  for  all  of 
you.  So  who  are  you  to  find  fault  with 
me?' 

'^So  the  chickens  hurried  home  and 
told  their  mother  all  about  it.  Then  the 
next  day  the  old  hen  herself  walked  up 
to  the  turtle  and  said:  ^How  dare  you 
scold  my  children?  How  dare  you  say 
all  my  family  are  only  worth  one  piece 
of  silver  ?  Do  you  think  you  are  worth 
anything  yourself?    You  are  so  tough 


242  Thirty-seventh  Story 

your  own  master  could  not  eat  you,  and 
the  market  people  would  never  buy  you. 
I  suppose  you'll  just  live  on  in  our  yard 
a  thousand  years  or  so.  Then  you  will 
die,  and  they  will  throw  you  into  the 
Nobody-Knows-Lake. ' 

^*Then  the  turtle  said:  ^I  am  a  moun- 
tain turtle.  I  come  from  such  a  wise 
family  that  it  is  hard  for  man  to  catch 
me.  Very  learned  men  like  doctors 
know  that  my  skin  is  good  for  skin 
disease,  my  forefeet  are  good  for  the 
devil-sickness  in  children,  for  they  drive 
the  devil  away.  My  shells  are  good  for 
sore  throat,  my  stomach  is  good  for 
stomach-ache,  and  my  bones  are  good 
for  toothache.  Once  when  some  of  your 
chickens  were  sick,  the  master  fed  them 
three  turtle  eggs  and  they  got  Avell.  So 
you  can  see  I  am  a  very  useful  creature. 
Yet  I  have  to  stay  cooped  uj)  in  this 
horrid  place  with  your  silly  children. 
They  steal  my  rice,  yet  I  never  bother 
you.  If  I  had  some  of  my  own  people 
here,  other  big  young  turtles,  then  you 
would  not  dare  came  near  us,  for  they 


Turtle  Tales  and  Chicken  Tails     243 

would  snap  at  you.  But  I  liaA^e  gotten 
over  the  snapping  age.  It  is  like  this 
with  me:  I  know  that  yesterday  your 
silly  young  chickens  scolded  me;  today 
you  scold  me;  tomorrow  and  the  next 
tomorrow  generations  of  unhatched 
chickens  will  hop  over  here  to  scold  me 
—but  I  will  be  living  on  and  on,  long 
after  our  master  has  chopped  off  your 
heads  and  eaten  you  up.  I  am  so  old 
that  I  am  wise,  I  know  that  the  earth 
is  large  enough  for  all  creatures,  but 
3^ou  think  the  earth  was  made  only  for 
cMckens.  If  you  should  be  able  to  scare 
me  away  today,  tomorrow  you  would 
begin  on  the  poor  dog,  and  the  next  day 
you  might  even  try  to  get  rid  of  the 
master.  This  barnyard  is  large  enough 
for  birds,  chickens,  ducks,  geese,  pigs 
and  myself.  It  makes  our  master  happy 
to  have  us  all  here.  Now  I  am  done. 
Go  away.' 

*^So  the  chickens  went  away  quite 
ashamed.  The  mother  hen  said:  ^Chil- 
dren, the  turtle  is  right.  It  is  foolish 
to  want  everything.    We  must  all  live 


244       Thirty-seventh  Story 

in  peace  with  one  jinotlier.  Tlie  barn- 
yard is  not  ours,  we  only  use  it  a  little 
while  till  we  die.  We  must  remember 
to  honor  old  age.  It  is  sometimes  hard 
to  live  to  be  old.  So  let  us  be  gracious 
to  the  turtle.  I  want  you  to  bow  to 
him  every  morning,  for  everyone  knows 
in  China  that  youth  must  reverence  old 
age.'  '^ 

When  the  story  was  over  the  grand- 
mother said  to  Blind  Chun:  ^'That  is 
a  good  story,  and  the  best  part  of  it  is 
that  young  people  in  China  do  reverence 
old  people,  and  bow  to  them.'' 


THIUTY-EIGHTH  STORY 

"A  RIDE  IN  A  WHEELBARROW" 


You've  heard  of  jinrik'shas  and  queer  bullock  carts, 
But  oh!  to  be  there  when  the  wheelbarrow  starts! 
"Squeak!"  says  the  wheel  a^  it  slowly  goes  round, 
"Squawk!"  it  remarks  as  it  rolls  o'er  the  ground. 
•'Boo-hoo !"  cries  "Not  Wanted,"  so  terribly  scared 
To  think  that  in  China  no  one  for  her  cared. 

Something  foe  you  to  do  :  Paint  her  little  jacket 
yellow,  and  her  little  trousers  green,  and  the  roses 
in  her  hair  red! 


245 


A  RIDE  IN  A  WHEELBARROW 

Of  course  you  all  know  what  a  wheel- 
barrow is,  but  I  am  quite  sure  you  never 
thought  of  being  trundled  through  the 
streets  of  a  city,  the  way  '^Not  Wanted" 
was  trundled  through  the  streets  of 
Amoy,  the  morning  her  uncle  took  her 
away  from  home  to  get  rid  of  her. 
Probably  you  remember  that  she  had 
a  very  disagreeable  temper,  and  there 
were  enough  little  girls  to  feed  in  their 
household,  anyway! 

Little  girls  in  China  (all  who  are  not 
Christians  yet,  I  mean)  have  their  feet 
bound  up  into  a  very  small  space  so 
they  will  fit  into  Tie  tiniest  silk  shoes 
you  ever  saw.  Of  course,  it  hurts  them 
so  much  and  makes  their  feet  so  useless 
that  they  never  can  walk  far  all  the 
rest  of  their  lives,  and  that  is  one  reason 
why  in  China  women  and  girls  ride  in 
wheelbarrows. 

I  just  wish  you  could  have  seen  **Not 
246 


A  Ride  in  a  Wheelbarrow        247 

Wanted-'  perched  on  one  side  of  Jier 
wheelbarrow,  with  her  bundles  of 
clothes  and  her  quilt  on  the  other  side ! 
Even  though  she  was  wearing  her  very 
best  yellow  jacket  and  bright  green 
trousers,  she  was  crying  as  if  her  heart 
would  break  as  she  remembered  all  the 
perfectly  aivful  things  missionaries 
might  do  to  little  Chinese  girls:  pull 
out  their  eyes,  cut  them  all  up,  whip 
them  and  starve  them,  and  oh,  dear! 
lots  of  other  ridiculous  thiigs!  Just 
think  what  a  wonderfully  pleasant  sur- 
prise she  will  have  when  she  actually 
meets  our  dear  missionary ! 

Her  uncle  walked  ahead  of  her  on  the 
street  bowing  very  politely  to  the  people 
he  met.  He  did  it  like  this:  he  bowed 
way  over,  he  shook  his  own  hands  as 
he  said  very  politely:  ^^Your  miserable 
servant  is  sublimely  honored  to  look 
upon  your  worshipful  countenance!'' 
Then  the  friend  he  met  bowed  too,  and 
said:  *^You  use  up  the  air  in  great 
compliments,  for  it  is  your  humble  slave 
who  is  glorified  by  this  momentous  oc- 


248  Thirty-eighth  Story 

casion!"  You  can  see  how  exceedingly 
polite  the}'  aj*e  in  China,  and  wliat  higli- 
sounding  words  tliey  use! 

Before  tliey  got  to  the  missionaiy's, 
they  passed  a  temple,  so  her  uncle  went 
in  and  made  an  offering  to  the  hideous 
old  wooden  idol  inside.  Then  on  they 
went  through  such  narrow  streets  with 
such  bumpy  stones  that  ^'Not  Wanted" 
was  almost  spilled  out  a  number  of 
times.  But  finally  they  reached  a  big 
wall,  and  at  a  high  gate  her  uncle 
knocked  loudly  until  the  gatekeeper 
opened  it.  Her  uncle  sent  in  a  big  green 
visiting  card  to  the  missionary,  and  was 
ushered  into  a  room  with  a  rocking- 
chair  in  it.  He  had  never  seen  one  be- 
fore, and  was  very  careful  not  to  sit 
in  it! 

But  when  our  missionary  came  in  she 
sat  down  in  the  rocking-chair  with  per- 
fect safety!  The  uncle  made  a  fine 
bow,  then  he  said:  ^^ Honored  Lady,  I 
have  outside  a  worthless  little  worm  of 
the  dust  whom  I  wish  to  bestow  upon 
you.    She  is  no  good  in  our  household. 


A  Ride  in  a  Wheelbarrow        249 

She  makes  nothinc;  but  trouble  under 
our  roof  tree.  If  there  is  no  room  in 
your  honorable  home,  I  think  I  can  sell 
her  for  a  long  string  of  cash  to  a  man 
in  the  city.'' 

You  can  imagine  how  horrified  our 
missionary  felt  to  hear  him  speak  sc 
easily  of  selling  any  little  girl. 

*^But  why  do  you  want  to  get  rid  of 
her'?''  she  asked. 

*^She  is  like  a  little  tempest,"  the 
uncle  explained.  ' '  She  miserably  weeps 
and  wails  like  the  storms  of  heaven 
when  her  bound  feet  trouble  her;  she 
kicks  and  fights  and  steals  when  her 
worthless  little  stomach  wants  rice  that 
is  cooked  for  others ;  she  is  entirely  use- 
less to  us,  but  we  heard  of  your  gracious 
goodness  in  keeping  the  unwanted  girls 
of  poor  families,  so  we  thought  you 
might  condescend  to  pack  away  this 
small  nuisance  of  ours." 

I  am  sure  you  agree  with  me  this  was 
a  very  flowery  way  of  telling  how  no- 
body wanted  *^Not  Wanted,"  and  our 
missionary  was  curious  to  see  what  this 


250  Thirty-eighth  Story 

naughty  girl  looked  like.  So  she  went 
out  to  the  courtyard,  and  there  sat 
*^Not  Wanted^'  in  her  wheelbarrow, 
howling  and  crying ! 

*^I  bestow  her  upon  you!"  said  the 
uncle  bowing,  ''she  is  as  your  own,  to 
beat  and  correct  as  your  fancy  pleases.'' 

''Not  Wanted"  screamed  and  shriek- 
ed and  yelled,  she  hit  around  with  her 
arms  and  shouted:  "I  don't  want  to 
stay  with  the  white  devil!  I  don't 
want  to  be  eaten  alive!  O  honorable 
uncle,  take  me  back  to  my  grand- 
mother's roof  tree."  But  her  uncle  had 
walked  calmly  away  and  left  our  mis- 
sionary face  to  face  with  this  howling 
cyclone ! 

Well,  she  patted  her  on  the  back,  and 
tried  to  comfort  her  until  "Not 
Wanted"  calmed  down  a  little,  and 
sniffled,  and  wiped  her  nose  on  the 
sleeves  of  her  little  yellow  jacket!  Our 
missionary  did  not  like  to  see  that,  so 
she  sent  one  of  the  little  girls  off  to 
bring  a  handkerchief  for  this  new 
friend. 


A  Ride  in  a  Wheelbarrow        251 

She  came  back  in  a  minute  and  bow- 
ing in  her  nicest  fashion  offered  the 
handkerchief  to  ^^Not  Wanted.'' 

^'What  is  it  for^'  ^'Not  Wanted'' 
asked,  between  sniffles,  for  she  had  never 
seen  a  handkerchief  before. 

'^It  is  to  wipe  your  honorable  nose 
and  your  heavenly  eyes,"  the  little  girl 
answered,  and  started  to  wipe  the  tears 
from  '^Not  Wanted's"  wet  face. 

Then  liow  she  did  scream!  '^No! 
no!"  she  said,  *4t  is  magic!  You  are 
trying  to  bewitch  me!"  She  ran  away 
so  very  much  frightened  that  our  mis- 
sionary finally  said  to  all  the  happy 
little  girls  who  live  in  our  Orphanage: 
^^  Suppose  we  just  let  her  alone  a  few 
days;  smile  at  her  kindly  and  think  of 
her  lovingly;  then  she  will  get  used  to 
us  and  love  us,  I  think." 

So  for  three  days  everybody  smiled 
at  ^^Not  Wanted,"  and  offered  her 
goodies,  but  she  was  still  very  much 
scared,  so  she  just  watched  them,  and 
watched  them,  and  watched  them ! 


THIRTY-NINTH  STORY 

LITTLE  MISS  DAFFODIL 


Little  "Not  Wanted"  was  not  to  blame 

Because  she  had  a  horrid  name, 

But  when  she  l)ecame  Miss  Daffodil 

She  changed,  and  changed,  and  changed,  until 

Her  grandmother  said  with  great  surprise: 

"I  hardly  can  believe  my  eyes!" 


252 


^^LITTLE  MISS  DAFFODIL" 

Do  you  remember  last  Sunday  how 
'^Not  Wanted"  was  brought  to  our  own 
nice  Orphange  in  Amoy,  and  was  the 
most  frightened,  unhappy  little  girl  in 
all  China? 

Well,  the  next  day  she  cried  a  good 
deal,  too,  and  she  stood  off  in  a  corner 
to  watch  all  the  other  happy  jumping 
little  children,  who  seemed  to  love  our 
missionary  a  lot.  ^^Not  Wanted''  de- 
cided that  surely  this  missionary  had 
never  eaten  any  little  Chinese  girls  yet, 
nor  ever  would,  for  all  these  children 
had  their  two  black  eyes  still  safe  and 
sound  in  their  heads,  and  they  did  seem 
too  happy  for  words. 

She  watched  them  playing,  and  eat- 
ing, and  singing,  and  saying  grace  be- 
fore meals,  and  on  the  third  day  a  queer 
thing  happened !  Down  in  ^^Xot  Want- 
253 


254  Thirty-ninth  Story 

ed^s''  heart  something  seemed  to  feel 
very  warm  and  comfortable,  something 
in  her  little  throat  began  to  sing,  some- 
thing in  the  tips  of  her  tiny  little 
shoes  began  to  want  to  jump  and  skip, 
and  she  herself  tagged  around  after  our 
missionary  all  day,  like  a  small  shadow  1 
Can  you  guess  what  was  the  matter? 
Why,  it  was  love  that  was  doing  this ! 

Someone  was  loving  her,  and  petting 
her,  someone  was  praising  her  when  she 
did  things  right,  someone  was  very  pa- 
tient with  her  when  she  did  things 
wrong,  someone  was  showing  how  that 
Jesus  is  a  real  Friend  for  little  chil- 
dren, and  ^^Not  Wanted' '  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  almost  the  happiest  little 
girl  in  China,  when  the  very  nicest  thing 
of  all  happened. 

Our  missionary  said:  ''  ^ISTot  Want- 
ed,' I  really  think  you  need  a  brand 
new  name,  dear,  because  I'm  sure  you 
know  that  you  are  wanted  here!  I 
wonder  what  name  you  would  like 
best?" 

Not   Wanted's"   face   screwed   up 


ii 


Little  Miss  Daffodil  255 

into  cute  little  dimples  and  smiles,  and 
she  giggled  shyly. 

'^Oh,  I  know!"  said  another  little 
orphan,  "leVs>  call  her  'Wu  Fah  Din!'  " 
Now  in  English  that  means  Daffodil, 
and  this  little  girl  thought  that  was 
what  ^^Not  Wanted"  looked  like,  with 
her  yellow  jacket  and  her  green  trou- 
sers. So  from  that  minute  she  became 
^^ Little  Miss  Daffodil"  to  everybody. 

Our  missionary  told  her  what  bright 
and  sunny  flowers  daffodils  are,  always 
nodding  their  dear  yellow  heads  as  if 
they  were  saying,  ^^Yes,  I'll  be  merry 
and  cheerful,  of  course  I  will!"  Little 
Miss  Daffodil  loved  it.  She  promised 
to  be  exactly  like  them,  if  she  could; 
and  I  know  Jesus  helped  her,  for  she 
got  all  out  of  the  habit  of  grabbing  for 
things  and  being  cross  and  pouting. 

One  day  she  begged  for  a  great 
favor,  she  asked  our  missionary  if  she 
couldn't  please  be  trundled  back  in  a 
wheelbarrow  to  her  grandmother's 
house  to  pay  a  call. 

Now  our  missionary  hoped  that  Miss 


256  Thirty-ninth  Story 

Daffodil  could  do  some  good  in  that 
dark  dingy  house,  and  even  thought 
they  would  want  to  take  back  this  little 
new  sunbeam.  So  she  let  her  go,  and 
you  never  saw  a  more  excited  lot  of 
aunts  and  cousins  and  sisters,  or  a  more 
astonished  grandmother. 

^^What!  is  this  ^Not  Wanted?'  "  they 
said.  ^^This  smiling  girl  with  big  un- 
bound feet  who  dances  around  so  hap- 
pily r' 

Little  Miss  Daffodil  made  a  deep  bow 
to  her  grandmother  as  she  said  politely : 
*'Yes,  it  is  the  same  girl,  aged  one !  But 
I  have  a  nice  new  name  now,  and  I  wash 
all  over  every  day,  and  I  clean  my 
teeth,  and  say  a  prayer  to  Jesus  before 
I  eat  my  rice.  There  is  smiling  in  my 
heart  all  day  long,  the  honorable  Jesus 
put  it  there.'' 

^* Jesus?"  asked  the  grandmother. 
' '  I  never  heard  of  Him  before  ?  Who  is 
He?" 

'^Well,"  said  Daffodil  sitting  down 
beside  her,  '4t's  like  this:  Jesus  is 
God's  son,  and  we  sing  songs  to  him, 


Little  Miss  Daffodil  257 

and  pray  to  Mm.  I  guess  you  never 
heard  that  our  idols  really  aren't  any 
good  at  all.  But  the  missionary  says 
they  are  only  wood  and  stones,  they 
can 't  hear  anything,  or  see  anything,  or 
eat  anything  we  give  them.  God  doesn't 
like  to  see  us  bowing  to  idols.  But  God 
never  hurts  us,  even  when  we  do  wrong. 
He  just  loves  us.  And  Jesus  loves  us. 
It's  awfully  nice,  isn't  itr' 

They  thought  it  was  so  nice  to  have 
this  jolly,  happy  little  girl,  so  brimful 
of  queer  new  stories,  that  the  grand- 
mother said  to  the  grandfather:  ''Aged 
one,"  she  said,  ''permit  me  to  keep 
the  small  granddaughter  under  our 
rooftree  once  more,  and  to  send  her  to 
the  Christian  school  each  day  in  the 
wheelbarrow.  She  makes  sweet  flowers 
bloom  in  our  lonely  house." 

The  grandfather  solemnly  hemmed 
and  hawed  and  looked  im^Dortant,  as 
only  Chinese  grandfathers  can  look. 
Then  he  said : ' '  There  shall  be  rice  under 
our  rooftree  to  feed  her,  and  a  wheel- 
barrow shall  carry  her  to  school." 


258  Thirty-ninth  Story 

So  that  is  the  way  the  story  of  Jesus 
entered  that  dark  dingy  house,  for 
every  day  when  Daffodil  was  trundled 
home  from  school,  she  would  tell  her 
grandmother  and  aunts  and  cousins  the 
new  story  she  had  heard  that  day,  until 
they  all  knew  about  the  Babe  of 
Bethlehem;  the  Wise  Men;  the  Kind 
Friend  of  all  little  children ;  and  all  the 
other  dear  stories  about  Jesus. 


FORTIETH  STORY 

HOW  A  TOY  ROOSTER 
PREACHED  A  SERMON 


"Cock-a-doodle-do !"  the  real  live  roosters  call, 

But  from  the  toy  tin  rooster  there  came  no  word,  at 
all! 

Nor  could  he  give  a  single  proof 
That  he  could  well  protect  their  roof. 

I'm  glad  they  learned  that  God  takes  care 

Without  that  silly  rooster  there! 

Something  fob  you  to  do:  Paint  the  ridge  of  the 
roof  red  and  the  tiles  green. 


259 


^^HOW  A  TOY  ROOSTER 
PREACHED  A  SERMON '^ 

I  HOPE  you  remember  my  other 
stories  about  ''Not  Wanted,"  whose 
ugly  name  was  changed  to  the  pretty 
one  of  Little  Miss  Daffodil,  after  she 
went  to  our  very  own  mission  school  in 
Amoy,  and  found  out  about  Jesus.  For 
today  I  have  a  story  about  her  home, 
which  may  seem  funny  to  you,  although 
I  think  it  is  rather  sad,  too. 

It  was  like  this:  Of  course  after 
Daffodil  really  got  to  know  about  Jesus, 
she  had  no  use  at  all  for  the  idols.  She 
even  tried  to  stop  the  cook  from  offer- 
ing a  bowl  of  rice  to  the  green  and  red 
paper  kitchen  god,  and  she  hinted  to  her 
grandmother  over  and  over  that  it  was 
wrong  to  burn  incense  before  the  brass 
idol.  But  the  grandmother,  and  the 
cook,  too,  said  she  might  be  right  or  she 
260 


How  a  Toy  Rooster  Preached     261 

might  be  \Yroiig,  it  was  better  to  be  on 
the  safe  side,  and  keep  on  doing  the 
same  worship  in  the  same  old  way. 

That  seems  f  oolisli  enough  to  us,  but 
up  on  their  green  tiled  roof  was  an 
even  stranger  thing  —  a  little  toy 
rooster!  The  solemn  old  grandfather, 
in  his  black  cap  with  the  red  button  on 
it,  had  stood  beside  the  house  to  watch 
the  gardener  fasten  it  safely  up  there. 
You  wdll  never  guess  w^hy— so  I  shall 
have  to  tell  you  that  the  grandfather's 
room  faced  the  new  Christian  church, 
which  had  just  been  built.  The  grand- 
father and  all  the  uncles  and  cousins 
w^ere  afraid  that  dreadful  evil  spirits 
might  fly  out  from  that  church  straight 
into  their  courtyard.  So  the  town 
astrologer,  who  w^as  supposed  to  be 
wondrous  wise,  told  the  grandfather  to 
fasten  a  tin  rooster  on  his  roof,  for  the 
rooster  w^ould  surely  scare  away  the  evil 
spirits.  For  they  would  think  he  might 
crow  and  flap  his  wings  and  wake 
everybody  up.  So  the  tin  rooster  was 
bought,  and  put  up  on  the  roof,  and 


262  Fortieth  Story 

everybody  had  felt  very  safe  in  Miss 
Daffodirs  home  for  two  years. 

One  day  after  she  had  been  going  to 
our  mission  scliool  for  a  long  time  she 
said  to  her  grandmother:  ^'Dear  aged 
one,  I  have  told  you  stories  of  Jesus 
for  a  long  while  now,  and  you  always 
say  ^Good!  Good!'  w^hen  I  finish,  yet 
you  keep  right  on  offering  bowls  of  rice 
and  incense  to  the  idols.  Just  for  one 
day  let  us  try  not  making  any  o:^ering 
to  the  idols,  then  you  can  see  that  the 
one  and  only  God  will  take  care  of  us." 

Little  Miss  Daffodil  was  so  dear  and 
sweet  now,  that  everybody  loved  to  do 
what  she  asked,  and  her  grandmother 
actually  promised  to  try  it,— just  for 
one  day.  And  oh!  it  was  such  a  rainy 
day,  with  very  high  winds  and  so  much 
rain  that  Miss  Daffodil  could  not  go  to 
school.  All  day  long  no  food  was  of- 
fered to  the  silly  idols,  and  the  aunts 
and  cousins  cooped  up  at  home  had  the 
loveliest  time,  for  Little  Miss  Daffodil 
read  them  stories  from  her  primer  and 
played  the  games  our  missionary  had 


How  a  Toy  Rooster  Preached     263 

taught  her.  The  wind  howled  and 
raged  outside  and  the  rain  daslied  down 
on  the  roof  making  a  great  racket  after 
everybody  had  gone  to  bed. 

In  the  morning— oh  dear!  in  stamped 
the  old  grandfather  looking  quite  pale 
and  scared. 

^^Alas!  Alas!"  he  said,  ''the  tin 
rooster  has  gone  from  our  roof!  The 
gods  are  angry  with  us,  the  evil  spirits 
will  surely  hurt  us  now!" 

Of  course  you  and  I  know  better,  but 
the  grandmother  and  aunts  and  cousins 
remembered  right  away  that  they  had 
not  worshipped  the  idols  the  day  before, 
and  they  were  quite  sure  that  must  be 
the  reason  the  evil  spirits  had  run  away 
with  the  rooster.  But  they  did  not  dare 
tell  the  grandfather  what  they  had 
done;  they  simply  tried  to  x^lease  the 
idols  by  offering  them  each  a  perfectly 
huge  bowl  of  rice  and  by  burning  sweet 
incense  before  them  all  day  long.  They 
could  hardly  wait  for  Daffodil  to  come 
home  from  school,  so  they  could  tell  her 


264  Fortieth  Story 

how  imluck}'  it  was  not  to  worship  the 
idols. 

But  when  she  finally  got  home,  lo  and 
behold!  our  missionary  was  with  her, 
and  of  course  it  would  be  impolite  to 
scold  a  naughty  child  before  an  honored 
guest,  so  they  were  as  j^olite  as  possible. 

^'Sit  higher!  Sit  here  in  this  best 
seat ! ' '  they  all  called.  ^ '  No !  ISTo !  don 't 
sit  down  near  the  door— sit  here!'' 

But  our  missionary  had  good  Chinese 
manners,  and  she  sat  quite  near  the 
door  and  drank  a  cup  of  tea,  and  ate 
some  little  cakes,  wrapping  all  that  she 
could  not  eat  in  her  handkerchief  to 
take  home  wdth  her,  for  that's  the  way 
to  do  in  China ! 

Then  she  bowed  to  the  grandmother 
and  said:  ''I  hope  you  have  peace ^" 

''There  is  no  peace  in  this  house- 
hold," said  the  grandmother,  and  she 
told  about  how  the  evil  spirits  had  done 
away  with  their  tin  rooster. 

You  should  have  heard  Miss  Daffodil 
giggle !    Our  missionary  smiled,  too,  as 


How  a  Toy  Rooster  Preached     265 

she  reached  in  her  j^ocket  and  actually 
pulled  out  the  little  tin  rooster.  She 
explained  very  politely  that  it  really 
wasn't  the  evil  sjoirits  at  all,  but  the 
very  high  winds  the  day  before  which 
had  blown  the  rooster  off  the  slippery 
wet  tile  roof  and  had  blo^vn  him  right 
over  to  the  door  of  the  Christian  church, 
where  he  lay  until  time  for  prayer  meet- 
ing that  night. 

Then  he  had  been  picked  u^  and  car- 
ried into  the  meeting  and  the  minister 
showed  it  to  everybody  and  said  the 
rooster  had  blown  off  Miss  Daffodil's 
roof.  He  said  that  of  course  a  silly  tin 
rooster  could  do  no  good,  could  it? 
Then  up  got  a  very  new  Chinese  Chris- 
tian and  said  he  had  never  had  a  tin 
rooster,  to  be  sure,  but  all  his  life  he 
had  had  paper  idols  pasted  on  Ins  doors 
to  keep  out  the  evil  spirits,  but  now  that 
he  loved  Jesus,  he  knew  he  could  trust 
Him  to  take  care  of  his  family,  so  he 
had  burned  up  the  paper  gods.  An- 
other man  said  he  knew  now  that  there 
were  no  such  things  as  evil  spirits  in 


266  Fortieth  Story 

God's  world;  in  fact  everybody  had 
something  to  say  about  evil  spirits  and 
what  they  used  to  do  before  they  were 
Christians,  until  you  could  almost  say 
that  the  silly  tin  rooster  had  preached 
the  sermon  that  night,  couldn't  youl 

The  grandmother  took  back  their  tin 
rooster,  and  looked  very  serious:  ^^I  am 
interested  to  know  that  so  many  of  our 
honorable  neighbors  believe  in  Jesus. 
If  they  can  trust  Him  to  take  care  of 
them,  perhaps  some  day  I  may  come  to 
trust  Him,  too.'' 

And  I  surely  hope  she  will,  don't 
you? 


FOKTY-FIKST  STORY 

THE  LITTLE  BOY  WHO  WAS 
CALLED  BY  A  GIRL'S 
NAME. 


Hei^e  in  his  basket  see  "Pretty  Girl"  sit! 
Yet  tliis  girl's  a  hoy — that's  queer,  isn't  it? 
But  I  guess  you  remember  his  poor  mother's  fear 
That  some  bad  evil  spirits  might  overhear, 
And  whisk  her  dear  baby  out  of  her  sight, 
If  they  guessed  'twas  a  boy  Mie  was  hugging  so  tight ! 
267 


^^THE  LITTLE   BOY -WHO -WAS 
OALLED-BY-A-GIRL'S-NAME" 

There  was  one  person  in  the  house 
where  Little  Miss  Daffodil  lived  who 
was  really  more  important  than  every- 
body else  put  together,  and  that  was  a 
tiny  round  baby  boy  called  '^Pretty 
Girl'^  to  fool  the  evil  spirits  into  think- 
ing he  was  really  a  girl,  and  of  no  im- 
portance at  all.  He  wore  a  girl's  ear- 
ring in  one  of  his  ears,  too !  Think  of 
that! 

Everybody  from  the  grandfather 
down  to  gardener  loved  that  little  boy 
who  was  called  by  a  girl's  name,  and 
when  he  grew  old  enough  to  walk 
around  alone  and  talk  quite  plainly  and 
learn  to  do  things,  our  friend  Little 
Miss  Daffodil  timidly  suggested  to  her 
grandmother  how  nice  it  would  be  if 
** Pretty  Girl"  could  go  every  day  to 
the  church  kindergarten  which  your 
268 


Boy  Who  Was  Called  a  GirPs  Name     269 

money  and  my  money  takes  care  of  in 
Amoy.  She  told  how  he  could  learn 
cunning  motion  songs,  and  little  verses 
about  his  cute  hands  and  feet,  and  how 
to  build  tilings  with  blocks,  and  how  to 
count  the  colored  beads  on  a  string. 
Oh !  ever  so  many  fascinating  things. 

The  wise  old  grandfather  was  asked 
what  lie  thought  about  it,  and  after  a 
great  deal  of  grown-up  talking  between 
aunts  and  uncles,  ''Pretty  Girl"  was  ac- 
tually sent  to  the  kindergarten.  Some- 
times he  went  with  Little  Miss  Daffodil 
in  her  wheelbarrow,  but  he  tumbled 
out  so  often,  that  usualh^  the  gardener 
put  him  in  a  basket  like  the  one  in  your 
picture:  it  swung  from  one  end  of  a 
bamboo  pole  which  the  gardener  bal- 
anced on  his  shoulder;  in  the  other 
basket  was  a  live  duck  quacking  noisily, 
while  in  the  top  bundle  were  some  vege- 
tables ! 

Your  money  and  my  money  does  lots 
of  good  in  China,  but  in  all  the  city  of 
Amoy  one  of  the  very  nicest  things  it 
does  is  to  take  care  of  this  Kinder- 


270  Forty-first  Story 

garten.  ^'Pretty  GirP'  did  love  it  all 
so  much!  He  was  such  a  little  round 
ball  of  a  boy  that  to  see  him  trying  to 
^^fly  like  a  birdie''  made  all  the  older 
children  want  to  eat-him-right-up,  he 
was  so  cunning!  Every  day  when  the 
gardener  carried  him  home  in  his  funny 
baby-carriage  basket,  he  ^^  showed  o:ff" 
to  his  delighted  family.  His  grand- 
father would  say:  ^^Is  there  a  brighter 
boy  in  all  China?"  Then  grandmother 
said:  ^^S'sh!  Remember  the  evil  spirits 
will  be  jealous  of  ^Pretty  Girl!'  A 
stupid  little  girl  he  is — oh,  so  stupid! 
Doesn't  know  anything  at  all!  Can't 
learn  anything,  either !  Stupid !  Stupid ! 
Nobody  loves  *  Pretty  Girl' — oh  no!" 
But  of  course  you  and  I  know  she  said 
all  this  nonsense  to  fool  the  evil  spirits 
who  might  be  listening. 

Well,  one  morning  the  gardener  came 
with  his  funny  baby-carriage  basket  to 
carry  ^^ Pretty  Girl"  to  school,  but  the 
poor  little  boy  was  very  sick — hot  all 
over,  and  crying  because  something  hurt 
him  somewhere. 


Boy  Who  Was  Called  a  Girl's  Name     271 

His  grandmother  said:  '^Oli  dear, 
there  is  a  little  dragon  spirit  inside 
him,  let  us  make  a  dreadful  noise  and 
scare  him  away!" 

So  they  beat  on  drums  and  tin  pans, 
making  a  terrible  racket,  but  ^'Pretty 
Girl"  cried  even  harder,  so  then  they 
sent  for  a  Chinese  doctor,  who  really 
was  not  what  we  would  call  a  doctor  at 
all.  He  was  an  IgnormnuSy  as  you  will 
soon  see!  For  he  said  it  was  surely  a 
dragon  sj^irit  inside  ^^ Pretty  Girl."  So 
what  do  you  suppose  he  did?  He 
brought  out  a  dreadful  long  needle  and 
punched  it  right  into  the  baby,  ^^to  let 
the  pain  out/'  he  said.  But  dear  me! 
to  hear  ^'Pretty  Girl"  yell,  you  could 
easily  know  that  plan  had  not  worked! 
So  the  solemn  doctor  blinked  and 
blinked  through  his  big  horn  glasses, 
and  prescribed  some  doses  of  the  fol- 
lowing medicine :  one  centipede,  the  eye 
of  a  snake,  the  left  claw  of  an  eagle, 
the  liver  of  a  frog  and  a  part  of  his 
grandfather 's  finger  nail.  ' '  Grind  these 
all  up,"  he  said,  ^^then  roll  them  into 


272  Forty-first  Story 

three  pills,  after  lie  has  swallowed  them, 
he  will  be  well/' 

So  Siway  he  went.  But  after  this 
medicine  was  swallowed,  he  kept  right 
on  being  just  as  sick.  The  sun  was  set- 
ting by  this  time,  so  his  mother  ran  out 
to  the  street  and  called:  ''Come  home! 
Come  home!''  For  she  thought  her 
little  boy  had  three  souls  and  that  one 
of  them  had  wandered  away,  and  he 
could  not  be  w^ell  again  until  it  came 
home. 

Then  Little  Miss  Daffodil  spoke  up: 
*'The  Christians  know  how  to  cure  the 
sick  in  their  big  hospital.  Do  let  us 
send  'Pretty  GirP  to  them!'' 

There  was  another  grown-up  talking 
between  grandfather  and  uncles,  then 
the  baby  was  bundled  up  in  a  quilt  and 
carried  in  the  gardener's  basket  to  our 
beautiful  hospital  in  Amoy.  When  our 
Dr.  Missionary  saw  the  baby  and  heard 
about  the  needle  and  the  queer  medicine 
he  felt  a  little  angry,  but  he  knew  just 
exactly  what  to  do,  of  course.  "Pretty 
Girl"  was  put  in  a  clean  white  bed,  and 


Boy  Who  Was  Called  a  GirPs  Name     273 

the  next  day  I  really  believe  every  one 
of  his  aunts  and  uncles  and  cousins 
called  there  to  see  him.  There  wasn't 
a  thing  in  our  hospital  that  they  missed 
seeing,  and  luckily  they  got  there  just 
as  a  Bible  woman  was  telling  Bible 
stories  in  the  children's  ward.  The 
family  listened  to  every  word,  then  one 
of  the  aunts  said:  ''Oh  yes!  I  remem- 
ber! Daffodil  told  us  that  story  once!" 

The  day  that  ''Pretty  GirF'  left  the 
hospital,  the  grandfather  was  so  grate- 
ful to  our  Dr.  Missionary  that  he 
brought  him  a  red  block  of  wood,  on 
which  was  printed  in  queer  black 
Chinese  letters  how  thankful  he  was  to 
the  exalted  and  celestial  doctor  for  the 
marvelous  cure  of  his  insignificant  little 
grandson. 

The  doctor  hung  it  in  his  reception 
room  for  a  while,  and  felt  very  glad 
he  had  won  over  this  family. 


FORTY-SECOND  STORY 


WHAT  THE  GEANDFATHER  DID 
WITH  THE  IDOLS 


Little  lips  that  God  lias  made 
'Neath  the  far-off  temple's  shade 
Give  to  gods  of  wood  and  stone 
AVorship  that  should  be  God's  own. 

Tittle  hands  whose  wondrous  skill 
(Jod  has  made  to  do  His  will, 
Offerings  bring  and  serve  with  fear 
Gods  that  cannot  see  or  hear. 

Once  again  dear  Lord  we  pray 
I'or  the  children  far  away 
AV'ho  have  never  even  heard 
Jesus'  name,  our  sweetest  word. 

— Anon. 

274 


^^WHAT    THE    GRANDFATHER 
DID  WITH  THE  IDOLS" 

After  ^^  Pretty  GirP'  came  home 
from  our  Hospital  in  Amoy,  and  was 
well  enough  to  go  to  school  every  day 
in  his  queer  basket  baby  carriage,  his 
grandfather  got  into  an  entirely  new 
habit:  he  got  into  the  habit  of  going 
to  our  church  in  Amoy!  He  liked  to 
listen  to  the  preacher. 

^*He  speaks  words  of  sense,"  he  said 
to  his  sons,  and  they  would  solemnly 
nod  their  heads.  For  in  China  young 
people  know  that  old  people  know  best, 
and  they  listen  politely  to  whatever  they 
say.  Before  long  tliey  got  into  the  habit 
of  going  to  church,  too ! 

And  one  never-to-be-forgotten  day 
the  cook  came  into  the  kitchen  in  the 
morning  and  found  there  was  no  paper 
kitchen  god  anywhere !  There  were  no 
idols  on  any  of  the  shelves  in  that  whole 
275 


276  Forty-second  Story 

house,  there  was  no  tin  rooster  on  the 
roofs,  no  bowls  of  incense  anywhere! 
Well,  the  cook  said  he  simply  could  not 
cook  *' early  rice''  until  he  had  wor- 
shipped the  kitchen  god!  As  for  the 
grandmother  and  the  aunts,  they  nearly 
died  of  fright,  quite  sure  something 
awful  would  happen  very  soon.  But 
nobody  dared  report  it  to  the  grand- 
father! The  grandmother  said  he  had 
seemed  worried  lately,  and  this  would 
make  him  even  more  unhappy. 

But  lo  and  behold!  in  walked  the 
grandfather  just  then  with  the  nicest 
kind  of  a  smile  all  over  his  face ;  every- 
body bowed  very  politely  to  him. 

*^Why  do  I  see  such  fear  painted  on 
all  your  faces'?''  he  asked. 

^^Alas!  Alas!"  said  the  grandmother. 
^*  Every  one  of  the  idols  is  gone  from 
our  house,  and  we  know  something 
dreadful  will  happen.  Oh,  what  can 
have  happened?" 

Then  the  astonishing  grandfather  did 
an  astonishing  thing ;  he  actually  said 
he  had  carried  all  the  idols  over  to  our 


What  Grandfather  Did  With  Idols     277 

missionary's  house  himself  that  very 
morning,  and  burned  them  all  up,  so 
that  nothing  but  ashes  was  left ! 

You  should  have  seen  the  grand- 
mother and  the  aunts  and  the  cousins 
then !  But  Little  Miss  Daffodil  skipped 
with  joy!  *'Are  you  a  Christian  now, 
Honorable  grandfather?''  he  asked. 

^'Yes,"  said  the  grandfather  smiling, 
*^I  am  a  Christian.  The  missionary  has 
made  me  see  how  foolish  our  old  idols 
are.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  believe 
him,  however.'' 

So  one  Sunday  he  joined  our  church 
in  Amoy,  and  Little  Miss  Daffodil  never 
was  so  happy  before!  She  said  to  our 
missionary:  ^^ Perhaps  if  I  had  not  been 
such  a  miserably  disagreeable  little 
crosspatch,  I  would  never  have  met  you, 
and  then  grandfather  never  could  have 
heard  about  Jesus  or  joined  the 
church." 

And  our  missionary  said  a  little 
sadly:  ^^I  guess  that  is  true,  dear,  for 
there  aren't  nearly  enough  missionaries 
to  go  around  in  China,  so  we  have  to 


278  Forty-second  Story 

depend  on  little  school  girls  like  you 
to  cany  the  story  of  Jesus  back  home  to 
their  families.'' 

I  wish  there  were  enough  mission- 
aries in  China  to  go  around,  don't  you? 
It 's  nice  that  we  can  help  by  giving  our 
money,  though,  then  ^^ Pretty  Girl"  and 
^^ Daffodil"  can  have  a  kindergarten 
and  a  school  and  a  church  to  go  to 
every  day,  and  other  little  yellow  boys 
and  girls  can  hear  about  Jesus. 


FORTY-THIRD  STORY 


THE  CEADLE  THAT  HUNG  IN  A 
TREE 


This  is  the  Cradle  That  Hung  in  a  Tree— 

Isn't  it  cunning  as  cunning  can  be? 

And  this  is  "Red  Beads"  whose  blanket  so  bright 

Is  never  long  out  of  her  papoose's  sight. 

She  weeds  in  the  garden,  she  rakes,   and  she  hoes, 

And  hangs  up  the  cradle  wherever  she  goes. 

279 


'  THE    CRADLE-THAT-HUNG-IN- 
A-TREE'' 

Once  we  had  some  stories  about  a 
Cradle-that- walked-on-two-feet — I  won- 
der if  you  remember  that  the  cradle  was 
really  a  little  Ja^^anese  girl  who  carried 
the  baby  around  on  her  back  all  day 
long?  The  cradle  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  about  today  is  just  as  funny,  for 
if  the  mother  wants  to,  she  can  fasten 
it  on  her  back,  or  if  she  is  busy  hoeing, 
or  digging,  or  chopping  wood  she  can 
hang  the  cradle  up  in  the  branch  of  a 
tree!  It  rocks  away  up  there,  to  and 
fro,  to  and  fro,  like  the  little  lullaby 
v/e  all  love: 

^^Rockabye  baby  on  the  tree  top 
When  the  wind  blows  the  cradle  will 
rock/' 

Perhaps  I  had  better  tell  you  that 
the  baby  in  the  queer  cradle,  and  the 
280 


Cradle  That  Hung  in  a  Tree      281 

-mother  digging  in  the  garden,  and  the 
lazy  father  smoking  a  pipe  in  the  shade 
of  the  tepee,  are  all  some  of  the  red 
members  of  God's  Family.  They  live 
right  here  in  our  own  America,  so  we 
call  them  ^^ American  Indians/' 

But  now  let  me  tell  you  some  more 
about  the  cradle  that  hung  in  a  tree,  and 
about  the  baby  asleep  in  it.  In  the  first 
place,  all  Indian  babies  are  called  pa- 
pooses— let  us  all  say  the  word  papoose 
out  loud  together!  ''Papoose/'  Per- 
haps you  can  see  from  your  picture  that 
the  papoose  cradle  is  partly  made  of 
wood,  but  wrapped  all  around  the  baby 
are  soft  warm  skins  from  a  big  animal 
called  a  moose.  Bright  feathers  from 
the  birds  and  pretty  beads  are  sewed 
on  his  cradle,  too.  His  little  fur  dress 
is  made  from  rabbit  skins,  and  he  is 
really  very  comfortable  up  in  his  tree. 
He  takes  ^^ forty  winks,"  and  then  he 
hears  a  squirrel  chattering  to  him.  You 
and  I  would  not  know  what  the  squirrel 
was  saying,  but  the  little  papoose  cocks 
his  head  on  one  side  to  listen,  then  he 


282  Forty-third  Story 

gurgles  with  joy,  for  somehow  or  other 
he  understands!  But  he  never  tells.  It 
is  really  the  strangest  thing  that  all  the 
red  members  of  God's  Family  seem  to 
understand  the  language  of  His  birds 
and  His  animals  better  than  anyone 
else  in  His  Family, — they  hear  a  cer- 
tain bird  call  and  the  Indian  chief  says 
to  his  braves:  ^'It  is  a  sign  that  the 
heavens  will  send  rain!''  You  and  I 
cannot  understand  these  things,  because 
we  live  in  houses,  and  our  houses  are 
in  towns,  while  up  in  his  cradle  the 
papoose  lives  right  among  the  animals 
in  God's  World  and  becomes  neigh- 
borly with  everything  there. 

The  little  house  our  papoose  lives  in 
is  just  about  as  queer  as  his  cradle,  it 
is  called  a  tepee.  It  looks  like  a  circu- 
lar tent,  with  the  sides  made  out  of 
animal  skins.  The  papoose's  mother 
made  it !  First  of  all,  she  chopped  down 
a  tree  and  cut  off  some  nice  long  sticks, 
they  were  for  tepee  poles.  Then  she 
tanned  the  skins  of  some  animals  her 
husband  had  shot,  and  sewed  them  to- 


Cradle  That  Hung  in  a  Tree      283 

gether.  She  even  painted  figures  of 
men  and  liorses  and  dogs  on  the  skins, 
after  wliich  the  house  was  ready  to  go 
up.  So  she  planted  the  tepee  poles  in 
a  ring,  and  she  tied  them  together  at 
the  top,  so  that  they  looked  exactly  like 
great  capital  X's.  Around  this  she  tied 
the  skins,  leaving  an  oj^ening  in  front 
for  the  door  and  a  hole  at  the  toj)  for 
the  smoke  to  go  out.  But  it  does  not 
always  go  out,  and  sometimes  rain 
comes  in,  so  it  gets  rather  damp  and 
smoky  indoors.  The  whole  family  live 
and  sleep  and  cook  and  eat  inside  the 
one  round  room,  and  I  must  not  forget 
the  yellow  dog! 

Just  between  you  and  me,  I  think  it 
is  a  splendid  thing  that  our  papoose  can 
spend  so  much  time  up  on  his  tree 
branch  getting  acquainted  with  the  sun 
and  the  birds  and  the  squirrels. 

I  have  already  hinted  at  the  hard 
work  the  papoose's  mother  does  and 
how  lazy  the  father  seems  to  be!  He 
only  likes  to  do  grand  big  things,  like 
hunting  and  fighting  and  canoeing.  But 


284  Forty-third  Story 

mostly  he  likes  to  sit  in  the  shade  of 
his  tepee  smoking  a  queer  long  pipe. 
So  how  the  Indian  mother  does  have  to 
work  to  make  up  for  his  laziness:  she 
plants  the  seeds,  she  raises  the  crops, 
she  cooks  the  food,  she  chops  the  wood, 
she  even  takes  down  the  tepee  and  puts 
it  up  again  when  the  lazy  father  de- 
cides it  is  time  to  move  to  another  place 
where  the  hunting  may  be  better. 
Then,  too,  she  sews  the  soft  leather 
moccasins  that  the  children  wear  on 
their  feet  and  the  other  clothes  they 
wear.  She  knows  how  to  weave  the 
wonderful  blankets  and  the  soft  lovely 
baskets  that  your  mother  loves  to  buy. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  she  gets  tired  and 
is  always  rather  quiet,  because  she  has 
so  much  to  do. 

We  have  some  splendid  missionaries 
who  live  with  the  Indians,  and  next 
Sunday  I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  one 
of  our  missionaries  got  acquainted  with 
^^One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns  I'' 


FORTY-FOURTH  STORY 

ONE  LITTLE,  TWO  LITTLE, 
THREE  LITTLE  INJUNS 


Inside  such  a  tepee  as  this,  so  I've  heard, 

Live  Black  Thunder,  Strong  Arm  and  little  Snowbird 

Three  little  Injuns  who  do  lively  stunts 

To  imitate  father  who  goes  on  great  hunts. 

Something  for  you  to  do  :  The  tepee  is  a  very 
light  brown,  you  might  pretend  to  help  Red  Beads 
paint  patterns  on  it. 


285 


^^ONE  LITTLE,  TWO  LITTLE, 
THREE  LITTLE  INJUNS'' 

I  HOPE  you  have  not  forgotten  my 
story  last  Sunday  about  the  cunning 
Indian  papoose  whose  cradle  hung  up 
in  a  tree,  for  today  I  want  to  tell  you 
how  our  missionary  paid  a  visit  to  the 
tepee  where  the  papoose  lives  with  his 
lazy  father  and  his  busy  mother,  and  his 
One  Little,  Two  Little,^  Three  Little  In- 
jun brothers  and  sisters! 

Our  missionary  rode  out  to  their 
tepee  on  a  nice  saddle  pony.  She  rode 
for  miles  and  miles  along  a  lonely 
mountain  trail  through  the  lonely 
forests,  but  she  was  not  afraid  because 
she  knew  God  was  taking  care  of  her. 

Finally  she  saw  the  round  tepee.    But 

it    happened    that    Bed    Beads,    the 

mother,  had  fastened  the  papoose  on 

her  back  and  was  way  off  somewhere 

286 


One,  Two  and  Three  Little  Injuns     287 

picking  berries  and  acorns  for  supper. 
So  after  our  missionary  had  tied  her 
pony  to  a  tree,  she  feared  no  one  was 
home,  after  all.  Yet  all  the  time  six 
very  bright  eyes  were  looking  at  her 
from  inside  the  tepee!  Just  as  our 
missionary  looked  inside,  there  w^as  a 
great  scuffling  of  little  feet,  so  our  mis- 
sionary smiled  to  herself  as  she  said 
out  loud: 

'^Oh,  hello.  Snowbird!  Are  you 
there'?  And  you,  Strong  Arm?  And 
you.  Black  Thunder  r' 

Silence!  You  have  no  idea  how  shy 
those  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three 
Little  Injuns  w^re !  They  never  said  a 
word,  but  our  missionary  knew  a  thing 
or  two,  for  she  sat  down  on  a  box  just 
outside,  and  she  took  from  her  pocket 
four  pieces  of  cand}"  and  three  pretty 
cards.  Without  saying  a  w^ord  she  put 
one  piece  of  candy  in  her  mouth  and 
ate  if!  She  knew  they  were  watching 
her.  When  she  got  all  through  she  said 
to  herself:  ^^Yum-yum!  Good  sweet 
candy!''     Then  she  picked  up  another 


288  Forty-fourth  Story 

piece  and  pretended  to  eat  that,  but 
grab!  grab!  grab!  Some  little  red 
hands  had  snatched  all  the  pieces  of 
candy  and  the  cards,  too. 

Our  missionary  was  expecting  this, 
so  she  grabbed,  too,  and  caught  the  little 
brown  arms  and  drew  Black  Thunder, 
Strong  Arm  and  Snowbird  up  to  her 
lap,  and  started  telling  a  story  right 
away.  ^^Once  upon  a  time  there  was 
a  big  storm,  the  waves  were  ever  so 
high,  higher  than  your  tepee,  and  Jesus 
was  in  a  canoe  fast  asleep  on  the  lake. 
His  friends  were  scared  at  the  big 
waves,  so  they  woke  him  up.  *Look  at 
the  waves!'  they  said.  ^ Don't  you  care 
that  we  may  all  be  drowned?'  But 
Jesus  was  Chief-of-the-Waves,  for  he 
made  them,  so  He  said  ^ Peace,  be  still!' 
and  the  big  waves  lay  down  flat  and 
smooth  when  they  heard  Him.  Here  is 
a  picture  of  it  on  your  card.  Black 
Thunder!" 

Black  Thunder  loved  stories,  and  he 
had  listened  so  hard  he  had  forgotten 
to   eat   his   candy.     The    others   were 


One,  Two  and  Three  Little  Injuns     289 

listening  with  all  their  little  red  ears, 
too. 

*'What  does  my  picture  tell  about?" 
asked  Snowbird. 

And  that  was  the  way  our  mission- 
ary got  acquainted  all  over  again  with 
these  three  shy  little  red  Indians. 
"When  she  had  finished  her  stories, 
Black  Thunder  said:  ''You  just  ought 
to  see  me  shoot  with  my  bow  and 
arrow. ' ' 

''I  should  love  to  see  you  do  it!''  our 
missionary  said.  So  Black  Thunder 
ran  for  his  bow  and  arrow.  He  gave 
her  some  little  pebbles. 

"You  throw  them  up  in  the  air  and 
I  can  hit  them,''  he  said.  So  our  mis- 
sionary threw  pebble  after  pebble  up 
in  the  air  and  Black  Thunder's  arrows 
always  hit  them. 

''That  is  wonderful!"  our  mission- 
ary said.  Then  Snowbird  showed  her 
a  pretty  bead  collar  she  had  made  for 
their  queer-looking  old  yellow  dog,  and 
while  they  were  talking  Red  Beads  and 
the   papoose   came   home,   with   a   big 


290  Forty-fourth  Story 

basket  full  of  berries  and  acorns  for 
supper. 

Our  missionary  invited  them  all  to 
walk  over  to  church  the  next  Sunday, 
and  up  piped  Black  Thunder:  ^^Will 
there  be  more  stories  about  Jesus  T' 
When  our  missionary  nodded  her  head 
*^Yes/'  then  One  Little,  Two  Little, 
Three  Little  Injuns  said  in  a  chorus: 
' '  AYe  '11  be  there ! ' '  And  they  were,  too ; 
even  Red  Beads  came  with  the  papoose 
on  her  back.  But  I'll  save  that  for  next 
time ! 


FORTY-FIFTH  STORY^ 

HOW  THE  DUCKS  GOT  THEIR 
FINE  FEATHERS 


Here  are  the  ducks  who  in  the  Fall  weather, 
Were  once  painted  gaily,  feather  hy  feather. 
And  if  you  should  ask  if  this  story  is  true, 
I'd  have  to  confess  I  don't  think  so,  do  you? 


291 


^^HOW  THE  DUCKS  GOT  THEIR 
FINE  FEATHERS'' 

One  cool  night  in  November  when 
the  moon  was  big  and  yellow,  and  great 
flocks  of  ducks  and  geese  were  flying 
over  the  Indian  tepees,  calling  in 
strange  low  tones  to  each  other,  inside 
the  tepee  Red  Beads  and  the  papoose 
and  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns  were  all  shivering  over  the  fire ; 
so  Big  Eagle,  the  lazy  father,  said  he 
would  tell  them  a  fairy  story.  He  told 
it  this  way: 

^^The  Duck  people  are  traveling  to- 
night just  as  they  have  been  traveling 
at  this  moon  ever  since  the  world  was 
young.  They  are  going  away  from 
winter  because  they  cannot  make  a  liv- 
ing when  ice  covers  the  river.  You 
have  noticed  that  the  Duck  people  wear 
fine  feathers,  but  you  do  not  know  how 
they  got  them,  so  tonight  I  will  tell  you. 
292 


How  Ducks  Got  Fine  Feathers    293 

*^It  was  in  the  fall  when  leaves  were 
yellow  that  it  happened,  long,  long  ago. 
Napa  saw  them  flying  over  the  tepees, 
as  you  see  them  tonight.  Napa  was 
clever,  and  he  called  out:  ^ Hello,  Duck 
People,  come  into  my  tepee,  I  will  give 
you  a  big  dance.' 

"  'Don't  you  do  it!'  said  the  gray 
goose  to  the  others,  'Napa  is  always  up 
to  something  bad.' 

''But  Napa  built  a  cheerful  fire  and 
when  it  was  bright  he  said:  'Oh,  come 
on  into  the  tepee!'  and  he  began  to  sing 
a  song  in  the  duck-talk,  and  keep  time 
with  his  drum.  The  Duck  people  liked 
the  music,  and  came  a  little  nearer, 
until  pretty  soon  they  waddled  right 
into  the  tepee,  and  stood  around  the  fire, 
watching  for  trouble  all  the  time, 
though!  Then  Napa  said:  'This  is  go- 
ing to  be  a  Blind  Dance,  and  you  will 
all  have  to  be  painted  first.  Brother 
Mallard,  name  the  colors.  Tell  me  how 
you  want  me  to  paint  you.' 

"  'Well,'  said  the  Mallard  Drake, 
'you  may  paint  my  head  green,  and  put 


294  Forty-fifth  Story 

a  white  circle  around  my  throat  like  a 
necklace.  Then  I  Avant  a  brown  breast 
and  yellow  legs.  But  I  don't  want  my 
wife  painted  that  way.' 

''So  Napa  painted  him  as  he  asked, 
but  he  painted  his  wife  differently. 
Then  he  painted  the  Wood-duck,  and 
the  Canvasback,  and  the  Teal,  and  the 
Blue-bill  and  the  Goose,  singing  cheer- 
fully all  the  time.  They  looked  very 
pretty,  and  began  to  think  they  were 
going  to  enjoy  themselves  very  much. 

'^  'Now  we  are  ready  to  dance,  I 
guess,'  said  Napa,  putting  away  his 
paints.  'It  is  the  Blind  Dance,  so  when 
I  beat  with  my  drum  you  must  all  shut 
your  eyes  tight  and  circle  around  the 
fire  while  I  sing.  Every  duck  that 
peeks  will  have  sore  eyes  forever ! ' 

"So  the  Duck  people  shut  their  eyes, 
and  Napa  began  to  sing:  'Come  lovely 
Ducks, — Tum-Tum-Tum-Tum. ' 

"Around  the  fire  they  all  waddled  to 
the  music,  but  as  soon  as  they  reached 
Napa,  the  old  rascal  would  seize  them 
and  wring  their  necks,  so  he  could  eat 


How  Ducks  Got  Fine  Feathers     295 

them,  by  and  by.  Well,  everything  was 
going  along  finely  until  one  Duck 
peeked,  and  saw  what  was  going  on. 
'He  is  killing  us!'  he  cried.  'Let  us 
fly !'  So  then  there  w^as  a  great  squawk- 
ing and  quacking  and  fluttering  of 
wings  as  the  Duck  people  flew  from  the 
tepee.  Of  course  most  of  the  Duck 
people  peeked  as  soon  as  they  heard 
what  their  brother  Duck  said,  so  even 
to  this  day  they  still  have  sore,  red  eyes. 
You  can  see  that  the  next  time  you 
look.  And  you  can  see  the  very  colors 
Napa  painted  there  so  long  ago,  still 
very  bright  and  beautiful.  They  will 
stay  that  way  forever,  too." 

When  the  story  was  over  Snowbird 
said:  ^'That  was  mean  of  Napa,  wasn't 
itr' 

And  Black  Thunder  said:  ''But  some 
Indians  are  that  way,  aren't  they, 
father?" 

Big  Eagle  nodded  his  head,  he  was 
almost  asleep  again. 


FORTY-SLXTH  STORY 

THE  JESUS-ROAD 


The  Jesus-Road  is  hard  to  walk — 
For  those  who   like  the  tomahawk. 
For  Jesus  taught  us  each  to  pray: 
•'Help  us  forgive  our  foes  this  day." 

But  in  our  Indian  church  it's  fine 
To  see  new  Indians  fall  in  line, 
And  follow  Jesus  day  by  day, 
By  walking  in  the  Jesus-way. 


^^THE  JESUS-ROAD'' 

One  Sunday  Red  Beads,  the  Indian 
mother,  and  the  papoose,  and  One 
Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little  Injuns 
all  walked  the  four  long  miles  from 
their  tepee  to  our  church,  because  our 
missionary  had  especially  invited  them 
to  come,  as  you  probably  remember. 

Red  Beads  had  on  her  brightest  red 
blanket.  You  could  see  her  coming  a 
long  way  off,  with  the  papoose  cradle 
tied  on  her  back ! 

I  wonder  if  you  know  that  the  In- 
dians never  heard  about  Jesus  until 
our  missionaries  told  them;  they  don't 
even  know  about  how  God  made  His 
World,  for  they  think  that  everything 
in  the  earth  is  full  of  spirits;  so  that 
there  are  sun  spirits,  and  moon  spirits, 
cloud  spirits,  wind  spirits,  tree  spirits, 
grass  spirits,  stone  spirits,  bird  spirits, 
squirrel  spirits — oh  ever  and  ever  so 
297 


298  Forty-sixth  Story 

many  of  them,  more  than  I  conUI  pos- 
sibly tell  you!  The  Indians  worship 
these.  There  are  even  tepee  spirits,  and 
our  missionaries  sometimes  see  little 
pieces  of  red  calico  hanging  on  one  of 
the  poles  of  their  tepees,  to  make  the 
tepee  spirits  happy! 

Although  Red  Beads  and  the  children 
had  heard  our  missionary  tell  about 
Jesus  man}^  times  still  it  was  hard  for 
them  to  remember  all  she  said,  and  just 
as  hard  to  believe.  The  Indians  do  not 
know  about  Heaven,  either.  They  think 
when  they  die  they  may  go  to  a  place 
called  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds, 
where  there  will  be  plenty  of  good  fat 
animals  to  be  killed.  So  every  Sunday 
when  they  walked  four  miles  to  our 
church  they  learned  something  entirely 
new.  Quite  often  they  forgot  all  about 
it  on  the  way  home,  but  Red  Beads  knew 
all  the  time  that  other  Indians  were 
very  happy  when  they  became  Chris- 
tians, and  she  liked  to  think  sometime 
she  would  be  just  as  happy. 

Once    for    several    weeks    Snowbird 


The  Jesus-Road  299 

was  very  sick  and  not  able  to  go  to 
church  and  Sunday  school.  Our  mis- 
sionary asked  Black  Thunder  about 
her,  and  he  said  she  was  so  sick  that 
their  father  had  called  in  the  medicine 
man  to  cure  her.  Our  missionary  was 
very  sorry  to  hear  that,  and  after  Sun- 
day school  she  rode  over  on  her  pony  to 
the  tepee,  but  the  medicine  man  was 
there  already. 

I  know  you  would  have  been  scared 
to  see  him,  for  he  looked  terrible 
enough  to  frighten  anybody.  First  of 
all,  his  face  was  almost  all  covered  with 
paint, — white  and  blue  and  red.  On  top 
of  his  head  he  wore  a  pair  of  fierce-look- 
ing buffalo  horns,  and  around  his  waist 
he  wore  a  belt  made  out  of  snake  skins. 
In  his  hand  he  carried  a  big  rattle, 
which  made  a  great  noise  whenever  he 
shook  it,  which  was  far  too  often  for 
poor  little  sick  Snowbird. 

When  he  first  came  he  sat  on  the 
ground  for  a  while,  wrapped  up  in  his 
blanket;  then  he  got  up  and  began  to 
dance  wildly  around  Snowbird,  waving 


300  Forty-sixth  Story 

his  arms  and  shaking  his  rattle !  I  won- 
der if  you  can  guess  why  he  did  it  ? 

Well,  he  thought,  and  Black  Eagle 
thought,  and  Red  Beads  thought  that 
if  he  made  noise  enough  he  could 
frighten  the  fever  spirit  away.  The 
One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns  thought  so,  too! 

Our  missionary  arrived  when  the 
noise  was  the  very  loudest  and  his  danc- 
ing the  very  wildest.  After  the  medi- 
cine man  was  all  through  and  had 
stalked  solemnly  away,  wrapped  in  his 
blanket,  our  missionary  gave  Snowbird 
some  medicine  she  had  brought  with 
her,  and  she  bathed  her  hot  little  head, 
and  held  her  hand  and  sang  her  softly 
to  sleep  with  sweet  low  hymns  about 
Jesus.  Perhaps  your  mother  has  made 
you  feel  better  by  singing  that  way,  and 
you  know  how  it  makes  you  feel  cooler 
and  quieter  and  sleepier.  Nobody  can 
explain  things  like  that,  but  our  mis- 
sionary knew  it  was  true,  because  when 
she  was  a  little  girl,  her  mother  had 
sung  her  to  sleep  that  way,  you  see. 


The  Jesus-Road  301 

Every  day  after  that  our  missionary 
rode  over  on  her  pony  to  help  make 
Snowbird  comfortable,  and  Red  Beads 
said  to  Big  Eagle,  her  husband:  '^The 
pale  face  people  who  walk  in  the  Jesus- 
Road  know  more  than  our  medicine 
man!'' 

Big  Eagle  just  grunted,  because  he 
was  dreaming  about  hunting  buffaloes, 
but  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns  piped  up:  *^I  don't  see  why  we 
don 't  walk  in  the  Jesus-Road,  too ! ' ' 


FORTY-SEVENTH  STORY 

THE  GREAT  POW  WOW 


Here  are  the  people  and  here  is  the  tent 

To  which  lied  Beads  and  all  of  her  family  went. 

Here     are  the  dogs  who  find  it  a  lark 

To  creep  into  meetings  and  boisterously  bark ! 

But  isn't  it  fine  that  so  many  are  there? 

It  surely  shows  how  the  Indians  care 

To  hear  about  Jesus,  and  learn  how  to  be 

The  kind  of  good  Christians  He  must  love  to  see. 


^^THE  GREAT  POW  WOW" 

I  WONDER  if  you  guessed  from  my 
other  stories  about  Red  Beads,  tlie  In- 
dian mother,  and  Snowbird,  Strong 
Arm  and  Blacl^  Thunder  that  they  were 
really  all  going  to  become  Christians'? 
For  that  is  just  what  happened.  Not 
all  in  one  day,  of  course,  oh  no.  But 
after  two  years  of  walking  the  four 
long  miles  from  their  tepee  to  our  Sun- 
day school,  they  all  joined  our  church, 
and  they  really  were  so  di:fferent  and 
so  very  happy  that  they  did  wish  their 
father,  Big  Eagle,  could  walk  in  the 
Jesus-Road,  too.  But  they  never  could 
get  Big  Eagle  to  go  to  church ;  it  seemed 
too  far  to  him;  he  liked  best  to  sit 
around  at  home  smoking  and  dreaming 
of  the  good  old  days,  when  Indians  were 
very  fierce,  and  hunted  all  day  long  and 
scalped  their  enemies.  In  those  days 
they  used  to  have  great  Pow  Wows, 
303 


304  Forty-seventh  Story 

when  great  Indians  would  meet  to- 
gether and  make  the  pipe  of  peace  and 
talk  big  talk  together.  He  liked  to 
think  of  these  things  all  day  long. 

But  finally  winter  came,  and  the 
family  were  all  cooped  up  in  the  tepee 
more  than  in  summer,  so  he  couldn't 
help  but  hear  Red  Beads  singing  the 
hymns  about  Jesus,  and  at  night  he 
saw  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three  Little 
Injuns  saying  their  prayers  at  their 
mother's  knee,  the  way  our  missionary 
had  asked  them  to  do,  and  Big  Eagle 
got  interested. 

He  was  so  curious  he  said:  ^^Who  is 
this  Jesus  you  talk  about  f 

You  can't  imagine  how  proud  Black 
Thunder  was  to  be  able  to  tell  his  father 
all  he  knew  about  Jesus.  But  Big  Eagle 
said:  ''I  cannot  understand  all  you 
mean,  but  I  can  see  you  are  happy  on 
the  Jesus-Road." 

Then  by  and  by  winter  was  over,  and 
another  summer  was  over,  and  one  Sun- 
day Red  Beads  came  home  from  church 
much  excited.     *^  There  is  going  to  be 


The  Great  Pow  Wow  305 

a  big  Camp  Meeting  this  week,  we  are 
all  invited." 

Big  Eagle  opened  his  eyes:  *'What  is 
a  Camp  Meeting?"  he  asked  lazily. 

^'It  is  like  the  Pow  Wows  that  used 
to  be,"  said  Red  Beads.  ''All  the  In- 
dians will  meet  together  and  hear  big 
talking  for  several  days." 

''Let  us  go!"  he  said. 

So  the  next  week  Red  Beads  was  very 
busy  taking  down  the  tepee,  and  rolling 
up  the  skins  into  a  big  bundle,  which 
she  tied  upon  tw^o  of  the  poles.  One 
end  of  these  she  fastened  to  the  pony, 
the  other  dragged  along  the  ground, 
something  like  a  cart  without  wheels. 
She  packed  up  everything  else  and  car- 
ried it  herself,  although  you  would  sup- 
pose she  already  had  enough  with  the 
papoose  tied  on  her  back!  Big  Eagle 
just  carried  his  gun,  he  was  too  proud 
to  carry  anything  else!  Then  off  they 
started ! 

Other  families  were  starting,  too,  and 
it  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  bright 
blankets  and  feathers,  and  the  wagons 


3o6  Forty-seventh  Story 

traveling  along  over  the  hill  into  the 
beautiful  green  valley  of  Medicine 
Creek. 

When  they  got  there,  the  tepee  had 
to  be  put  up  again,  and  our  One  Little, 
Two  Little,  •  Three  Little  Injuns  were 
made  wildly  happy  by  having  white 
ribbons  pinned  on  them  marked 
^'Courier/'  which  meant  they  were  to 
be  busy  passing  hymn  books,  carrying 
chairs,  and  doing  other  little  useful 
things  all  day  long.  You  know  yourself 
how  much  more  fun  it  is  to  do  things, 
than  just  to  sit  around  doing  nothing! 

There  were  several  things  about  those 
meetings  that  Snowbird,  Strong  Arm 
and  Black  Thunder  thought  were  very 
funny  indeed.  One  was  the  Camp 
Crier,  an  Indian  man  who  was  chosen 
to  cry  out  the  time  for  the  beginning 
of  each  service.  The  children  liked  to 
hear  him  lift  up  his  great  voice — he 
really  could  be  heard  for  half  a  mile! 
Think  of  that!  The  other  thing  that 
amused  them  was  the  Dog  Committee. 
It  was  their  duty  to  keep  all  the  dogs 


The  Great  Pow  Wow  307 

out  of  the  tent  while  the  meetings  were 
going  on.  This  was  really  hard  work, 
for  almost  every  family  there  had  been 
followed  by  a  dog!  I  quite  forgot  to 
tell  you  that  the  yellow  dog  had  fol- 
lowed our  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three 
Little  Injuns  to  the  Camp  Meeting. 
One  day  he  crept  into  the  tent,  and 
sneaked  right  up  to  the  platform,  he 
cocked  his  head  on  one  side  very  wisely, 
exactly  as  if  he  understood  every  word 
the  preacher  said !  And  he  did  not  like 
it  very  well  when  the  Dog  Committee 
chased  him  away,  either ! 

The  meetings  were  perfectly  splen- 
did. Every  day  a  minister  told  the 
Indians  about  Jesus,  and  then  some  of 
the  Indians  would  get  up  and  tell  how 
happy  they  were  walking  in  the  Jesus- 
Eoad.  One  day,  the  very  nicest  thing 
of  all  happened — at  least  it  was  nicest 
for  our  One  Little,  Two  Little,  Three 
Little  Injuns!  for  Big  Eagle,  their 
father,  stood  up  in  the  meeting  and  said 
he  was  going  to  begin  to  walk  in  the 
Jesus-Eoad,  too. 


3o8  Forty-seventh  Story 

So  this  is  one  of  those  nice  stories 
about  the  red  members  of  God's  Family 
where  everybody  lived  happily  ever 
after ! 


FORTY-EIGHTH  STORY 

CAMEL    TAILS   AND    OTHER 
TALES 


Over  the  sands,  so  j-ellow  and  hot, 
Travels  the  camel,  and  minds  it  not: 

God  made  him  so 

That  he  easily  can  go 
Without  many  things  that  we  need  a  lot. 

Something  for  you  to  do:  Suppose  you  paint  the 
hot  sand  yellow  and  the  camel  brown,  and  the  cover 
on  the  camel  red,  then  you  will  know  how  the  desert 
looks. 

309 


*^  CAMEL  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

Par,  far  across  the  sea,  near  the 
place  where  Jesus  was  born,  is  a  big 
country  called  Arabia,  where  there  are 
big  deserts.  Perhaps  you  know  that  a 
desert  is  a  big  bare  piece  of  land  cov- 
ered with  hot  yellow  sand.  It  is  bare  be- 
cause nothing  will  grow  there.  It  is  a 
very  long  and  dangerous  journey  across 
the  desert  in  Arabia,  because  there  are 
no  roads  anywhere — just  sand,  sand, 
sand,  and  it  is  very  hard  to  get  water 
there. 

There  is  no  nice  green  grass  for  the 
animals  to  eat — nothing  but  thorns  and 
dry  wood,  but  when  God  made  His 
World  He  made  the  camels  especially  to 
live  in  these  deserts,  so  men  could  travel 
there.  He  made  the  camel's  mouth 
very  hard  inside,  so  that  he  could  eat 
the  thorns  and  even  the  bits  of  wood, 
310 


Camel  Tails  and  Other  Tales     311 

too,  if  he  has  to !  Sometimes  there  are 
big  sand  storms  in  the  deserts, — people 
and  horses  are  killed  in  the  storm  be- 
cause they  don't  know  what  to  do.  But 
the  clever  old  camel  buries  his  head  in 
the  sand  when  he  sees  the  cloud  com- 
ing, and  pulls  it  out  after  the  storm  is 
over.  God  taught  him  to  do  that  on 
purpose  to  live  in  the  desert. 

Then  when  the  journey  is  over,  the 
camel  folds  his  front  legs  under  him  as 
he  kneels  down,  then  he  bends  his  back 
legs,  too,  so  that  it  is  easier  for  the  man 
on  his  back  to  get  off. 

God's  Family  who  live  in  Arabia  are 
called  Arabs;  some  of  them  live  in 
towns  while  others  live  in  tents  wher- 
ever they  may  wish  to  pitch  them.  To- 
day I  would  like  to  tell  you  a  story 
about  a  little  Arabian  baby  named 
Ibrahim,  whose  mother  and  father  live 
in  a  tent  near  the  desert,  like  the  one 
you  have  in  your  picture.  The  father 
owns  two  camels,  and  takes  people  on 
trips  across  the  desert. 

When  Ibrahim  w^as  only  a  day  old, 


312  Forty-eighth  Story 

they  rubbed  a  brown  powder  all  over 
his  body,  and  painted  his  eyelids,  then 
they  wound  him  up  in  a  piece  of  calico 
and  tied  a  string  around  him,  exactly 
as  if  he  were  a  package  of  candy!  In- 
deed his  mother  almost  thought  he  was 
that,  for  she  whispered  to  him:  *^You 
jar  of  milk  and  honey!  You  sweet 
pomegranate  blossom !'' 

So  there  he  lay,  all  tied  up  tight  with 
a  close-fitting  bonnet  on  his  head. 
There  were  a  few  blue  beads  on  the  bon- 
net,— not  nearly  so  much  to  look  pretty, 
though,  as  to  keep  off  the  Evil  Eye, 
By  this  time,  you  and  I  ought  to  know 
all  about  what  evil  spirits  are,  but  Evil 
Eye  is  a  new  thing  to  fear,  isn't  it? 
It  means  about  the  same  thing,  because 
the  Arab  mother  thinks  any  stranger 
who  looks  at  her  precious  baby  can 
make  it  get  sick  and  die.  So  besides  the 
blue  beads,  Ibrahim's  mother  tied  a 
piece  of  paper  around  his  arm,  on  which 
was  written  a  few  verses  from  the 
Koran,  the  one  book  everyone  knows  in 
Arabia. 


Camel  Tails  and  Other  Tales     313 

I  think  you  would  be  amazed  at  the 
way  the  mother  herself  was  dressed, 
although  she  looked  exactly  like  all  the 
other  women  in  Arabia.  She  wore  two 
dark  skirts,  one  of  which  she  brought 
up  over  her  head  like  a  shawl.  When 
she  went  out-of-doors  she  wore  a  black 
veil,  oh,  a  very  heavy  one  indeed,  across 
her  face,  so  that  only  her  eyes  showed. 
This  was  so  that  no  one  could  see  her 
face. 

Perhaps  it  was  lucky  that  Ibrahim's 
father  was  poor,  because  richer  women 
were  not  allowed  to  walk  on  the  street 
at  all.  But  she  was  so  poor  that  she  had 
to  carry  her  own  water  jar  to  the  vil- 
lage well,  to  draw  water.  She  carried 
the  jar  on  her  head,  exactly  the  way 
women  did  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
years  ago  when  Jesus  lived  in  that  very 
land.  And  she  knew  just  how  to  hold 
her  head  so  the  jar  never  fell  off.  She 
washed  the  clothes  down  by  the  river, 
too,  and  sometimes  when  she  was  down 
there  she  heard  a  voice  crying  from  the 
steeple  of  a  tall  building:  *^Come  to 


314  Forty-eighth  Story 

prayer!  Come  to  prayer!  Allah  is 
Great !  There  is  no  God  but  Allah,  and 
Mohammed  is  his  prophet!" 

Everybody  in  all  that  town  would  fall 
on  their  knees  and  pray.  Five  times  a 
day  the  man  came  out  in  the  steeple  and 
called  ^^Come  to  prayer!''  and  five 
times  a  day  everybody  fell  on  their 
knees,  wherever  they  were,  by  the  river, 
or  in  a  shop,  or  on  the  desert,  or  in  their 
homes. 

I  can  hear  you  saying:  ^^I'm  afraid 
they  aren't  Christians,  are  they'?"  I 
am  sorry  to  say  they  aren't,  and  next 
Sunday  I  will  tell  you  more  about  this 
curious  custom. 


FORTY-NINTH  STORY 


THE  HOUSE  THAT  WEARS  AN 
OVERCOAT 


rr%c-j: 


Five  times  a  day 

The  Arabs  pray, 

And  many  foolish  words  tliey  say, 

As  on  their  rugs  they  kneel  them  down, 

And  bow  their  heads  toward  Mecca-town, 

While  in  tlieir  minds,  in  visions  float, 

The  Ho  use-that- wears-an-overcoat. 


315 


*^THE   HOUSE-THAT- WEARS- AN- 
OVERCOAT'' 

Do  you  remember  my  telling  you  last 
Sunday  about  the  brown  Arab  members 
of  God's  Family,  who  live  in  a  far- 
away country  called  Arabia,  near  a 
great  desert?  Perhaps  you  remember 
also  that  the  family  were  poor,  and 
lived  in  a  tent,  and  that  the  mother 
pulled  a  black  veil  over  her  face  when- 
ever she  went  to  the  well  for  water,  or 
to  the  river  to  wash  the  clothes.  But 
above  all,  I  hope  you  remember  that 
wherever  they  are,  indoors  or  out-of- 
doors,  tliese  Arabs  bow  down  on  their 
knees  five  times  a  day  with  their  faces 
turned  toward  Mecca. 

For  today  I  am  going  to  tell  you  how 
Ibrahim's  father  went  to  this  city 
called  Mecca,  and  how  these  people  hap- 
pen to  pray  five  times  every  day. 

3x6 


House  That  Wears  an  Overcoat    317 

Ibrahim's  father  owned  two  camels, 
and  a  man  from  his  town  came  to  him 
and  said;  *^I  am  going  to  make  a  pil- 
grimage to  Mecca — how  much  will  you 
charge  to  take  me  on  your  camels'?'' 

Well,  then  they  had  a  big  quarrel, 
for  Ibrahim's  father  began  by  asking 
too  much,  and  the  man  offered  too  little, 
because  that  is  the  queer  way  they  have 
of  doing  things  in  Arabia.  *^No!  No!" 
said  the  man,  ^^I  will  only  pay  half 
what  you  ask !"  Then  Ibrahim's  father 
pretended  to  get  mad,  and  it  took  them 
ten  minutes  to  agree  on  the  price  they 
each  knew  was  right ! 

But  finally  they  really  got  off.  They 
had  to  take  plenty  of  food  and  water  to 
last  for  days  and  days,  because  they 
had  to  go  over  the  desert,  where  nobody 
lives  and  where  there  is  no  water,  no 
trees,  no  grass,  just  sand — sand — hot, 
hot  sand.  .  .  . 

Day  after  day  after  day  the  patient 
old  camels  kept  walking  and  walking 
and  walking  over  the  hot  sand,  and  I 
am  sure  you  must  be  wondering  what 


3i8  Forty-ninth  Story 

can  make  anybody  want  to  take  such  a 
long  tiresome  trip  to  the  city  called 
Mecca '?  What  can  be  in  Mecca  to  make 
it  worth  while  *? 

It  would  not  seem  worth  while  to  any 
of  us,  or  to  our  fathers  and  mothers,  for 
the  only  thing  at  Mecca  is  the  House- 
that- Wears-an-Overcoat  ! 

I  guess  you  never  heard  of  anything 
so  queer  before,  did  you  ?  So  while  the 
camels  are  stalking  their  dreary  way 
over  the  hot  sands  of  the  desert,  let  me 
tell  you  about  this  queer  house.  It  is 
large  and  square,  and  they  call  it  the 
Kaaba.  There  is  absolutely  nothing 
inside  it,  so  nobody  goes  in.  But  all 
over  the  outside  there  is  always  the 
most  beautiful  embroidered  silk  cloth 
w^hich  covers  it  all  up  just  like  an  over- 
coat !  And  every  year  a  wonderful  new 
overcoat  is  carried  on  the  back  of  a 
camel  across  the  desert,  so  that  last 
year's  old  silk  overcoat  can  be  taken 
off,  and  cut  up  into  little  pieces.  Pil- 
grims to  Mecca  buy  these  old  pieces  of 
silk  as  charms  against  sickness  and  the 


House  That  Wears  an  Overcoat     319 

Evil  Ejel  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any- 
thing so  queer"? 

And  now,  listen  very  hard,  while  I 
tell  you  why  the  city  of  Mecca  and  the 
House-that-Wears-an-Overcoat  seem  so 
important  to  the  brown  members  of 
God's  Family  in  Arabia. 

For  once  there  lived  in  Mecca  a  man 
named  Mohammed — will  you  say  his 
name  with  me:  ''Mohammed"  —  who 
pretended  to .  have  wonderful  dreams. 
Oh  yes,  he  even  said  that  in  one  dream 
God  said  to  him:  ^^ Mohammed,  from 
now  on  you  are  my  prophet,  you  are 
greater  than  any  prophet  that  has  ever 
lived.''  So  when  Mohammed  told  his 
dream  to  the  people  he  even  dared  to 
say  he  was  greater  than  the  Lord  Jesus, 
and  he  began  to  start  a  new  religion 
called  Mohammedanism, — after  his  own 
name,  you  see!  Quite  a  number  of 
people  believed  his  dreams,  but  not 
nearly  enough  to  suit  him,  so  what  do 
you  suppose  he  didi  He  said  all  the 
Arabs  who  did  not  become  Moham- 
medans would  be  killed  right  away !    Of 


320  Forty-ninth  Story 

course  the  poor  Arabs  did  not  want  to 
'be  killed,  so  it  was  no  wonder  they  all 
promised  to  be  Mohammedans  at  once. 
That  is  the  way  his  new  religion  spread 
and  spread  and  spread  all  over  that  part 
of  God's  World,  until  today  one  out  of 
every  seven  persons  in  all  God's  Family 
is  a  Mohammedan. 

It  was  because  their  great  prophet, 
Mohammed,  was  born  in  Mecca  that  the 
Arabians  always  faced  toward  Mecca 
five  times  a  day  when  they  prayed,  and 
it  was  also  the  reason  they  wanted  to 
visit  Mecca  and  the  House-that- W  ears- 
an-Overcoat. 

By  this  time  Ibrahim's  father  and 
his  two  camels  were  almost  in  Mecca,  so 
both  the  men  changed  their  clothes  and 
put  on  the  special  kind  that  pilgrims 
have  to  wear.  They  went  to  a  holy  well, 
called  Ze7}i  Zem,  to  bathe  and  drink  the 
water.  Then  they  went  to  the  House- 
that- Wears-an-Overcoat,  and  walked 
seven  times  in  front  of  it,  each  time 
touching  a  Black  Stone  in  one  of  the 
walls.    And  that  was  all  there  was  to  it! 


House  That  Wears  an  Overcoat     321 

it  buriiis  iuolish  to  have  come  way 
over  the  desert  just  for  that,  but  they 
think  it  will  do  them  lots  of  good.  I 
am  so  glad  you  and  I  have  some  mis- 
sionaries of  our  very  own  in  Arabia  to 
show  these  people  that  Mohammed  was 
really  only  a  very  sinfvil  man,  and  that 
Jesus  is  the  only  one  in  all  the  world 
good  enough  to  be  worshipped. 


FIFTIETH  STORY 

DONKEY  TAILS  AND  OTHER 

TALES 


I  know  our  donkey  must  be  wise 
A  baby's  cries  to  recognize! 
I  guess  he  knows  a  tiling  or  two 
That  would  seem  very  queer  to  you! 
You  see,  his  ears  are  made  so  long 
He  hears  things  as  he  walks  along:— 
He  hears  the  Arabs  say  that  water 
Will  hurt  an  infant  son  or  daughter, 
That  "Evil  Eyes"  can  make  boys  sick, 
But  missionaries  cure  them  quick! 


322 


^^DONKEY  TAILS  AND  OTHER 
TALES'' 

Last  Siiuday  I  told  you  how  Ibra- 
him's father  took  a  long  trip  across  the 
desert  to  Mecca,  to  visit  the  House-that- 
Wears  -  an  -  Overcoat.  After  he  had 
traveled  all  the  long  way  back  home  over 
the  desert,  he  found  his  little  baby  Ibra- 
him very  sick,  his  head  was  very  hot  and 
he  cried  so  much  that  his  mother  gave 
him  some  cucumbers  and  figs  to  keep 
him  quiet. 

^^Dear  me!"  you  say,  ^Svhat  dreadful 
things  to  give  a  baby!" 

Well,  she  didn  't  know  any  better ;  the 
mothers  in  Arabia  are  almost  all  just 
as  ignorant  as  that  about  their  babies. 

''It  is  the  Evil  Eye!"  she  said  to  her 
husband,  so  he  tied  a  little  bag  around 
Ibrahim's  neck.  In  the  bag  was  some 
holy  earth  he  had  brought  all  the  way 
from  Mecca,  he  had  picked  it  up  right 
323 


324  Fiftieth  Story 

in  front  of  the  House-that- Wears-an- 
Overcoat. 

*'That  will  surely  make  him  well!'' 
said  the  father.  But  Ibrahim  kept  on 
getting  worse  of  course,  for  you  and  I 
remember  the  cucumber  and  the  fig! 
So  his  mother  sent  for  the  village  bar- 
ber, who  said  it  was  black  blood  that 
made  him  sick,  so  he  cut  a  little  vein 
in  Ibrahim's  wrist  and  let  some  blood 
run  out.  But  Ibrahim  was  just  as  sick 
as  ever  afterwards.  So,  poor  as  they 
were  they  sent  for  the  village  doctor, 
a  dirty  horrid-looking  man  with  a  red 
fez  on  his  head. 

^^Give  me  50  cents,"  he  said,  ^^and  I 
will  give  you  medicine  that  will  drive 
away  twenty  Evil  Eyes!" 

But  Ibrahim's  father  said  he  did  not 
have  50  cents. 

*^Ah  indeed!"  sneered  the  dreadful 
old  Arab  doctor.  ^^But  you  and  your 
camels  have  been  to  Mecca,  I  hear! 
Was  no  money  paid  for  the  use  of  your 
camels'?  Ha!  Ha!  I  know  every- 
tiling!'^ 


Donkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales    325 

'^Well,  here  is  20  cents/'  said  Ibra- 
him's father.  ^'You  make  my  baby 
well  for  20  cents." 

^^I  hmiibly  lick  the  dust  beneath  your 
feet,"  smiled  the  oily  old  doctor,  *'but 
only  when  I  have  30  cents  in  my  hand 
will  I  make  your  baby  well." 

^^Oh  do  give  him  the  30  cents,"  said 
Ibrahim's  mother,  who  saw  the  poor 
baby  was  getting  worse  all  the  time.  So 
the  doctor  got  his  30  cents,  but  what  do 
you  suppose  his  medicine  was  '^ 

Why,  he  wrote  on  paper  some  verses 
from  the  Koran,  and  made  the  hahy 
swalloiv  the  paper!  That  was  all  he  did. 
He  went  away  proudly,  and  Ibrahim's 
mother  felt  dreadfully  to  see  that  the 
baby  was  even  worse  than  before ! 

Then  you  and  I  really  did  something 
to  help,  for  one  of  our  very  owm  Dr. 
Missionaries  was  riding  by  on  his  little 
donkey,  when  he  heard  a  baby  wailing 
and  crying  inside  the  tent.  So  he  got 
off,  and  started  to  go  inside  to  see  what 
the  matter  was.  Doctors  know  what 
certain  kinds  of  crying  mean, .and  he 


326  Fiftieth  Story 

knew  that  Ibrahim's  cry  came  from  a 
baby  who  was  sick. 

You  ought  to  have  seen  how  quickly 
Ibrahim's  mother  covered  her  face  so 
this  strange  man  in  a  white  suit  could 
not  see  it !  But  our  Dr.  Missionary  was 
used  to  that ;  in  fact,  that  is  the  reason 
why  we  have  to  have  some  lady  doctors 
in  Arabia ! 

Well,  after  our  Dr.  Missionary  had 
looked  at  Ibrahim  very  carefully,  he 
gave  him  some  of  our  kind  of  medicine 
and  said:  ^^I  would  like  to  take  him  to 
my  hospital.  I  can  make  him  well 
there." 

*^How  much  will  it  costT'  Ibrahim's 
father  asked  anxiously. 

*^It  will  cost  what  you  can  afford  to 
pay,"  said  our  doctor,  seeing  how  very 
poor  their  tent  was.  ^^If  you  have  no 
money  at  all,  we  will  do  it  for  nothing." 

^^May  Allah  reward  you  for  your 
goodness!"  said  Ibrahim's  mother. 

Our  Dr.  Missionary  said  nothing  just 
then,  but  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
sometime   soon  she  must  learn  about 


Donkey  Tails  and  Other  Tales    327 

Jesus ;  and  she  did,  too.  For  when  the 
doctor  went  walking  off  with  Ibrahim 
safely  packed  into  the  straw  basket 
hanging  by  the  donkey's  side,  the 
mother  and  father  walked  along  beside 
him.  There  wasn't  a  thing  in  our  Hos- 
pital that  they  missed  seeing :  the  neat 
nurses,  the  white  beds,  the  kind  doc- 
tors, the  low  voices,  the  soft  tender 
hands  that  undressed  Ibrahim  from  his 
tight  calico  bandages. 

' '  Please  wash  him ! ' '  our  Dr.  Mission- 
ary said  to  the  nurse. 

**No!  No!"  called  Ibrahim's  mother, 
**do  not  wash  him,  he  has  never  ieen 
washed!'^ 

Then  they  had  to  show  her  other 
babies  in  the  hospital  who  were  washed 
every  single  day  of  their  lives.  Nice 
fat  gurgling  babies,  cooing  in  Arabian 
talk ;  ' '  Well, ' '  she  said  finally,  ' '  wash 
him,  but  don't  use  any  more  water  than 
you  have  to!" 

He  bawled  and  squaw]  ed  and  behaved 
dreadfully  during  the  bath,  because  such 
a  queer  thing  as  water  all  over  him  had 


328  Fiftieth  Story 

never  happened  to  him  before.  But 
afterwards  he  felt  a  little  better,  and 
went  to  sleep. 

He  stayed  in  the  hospital  three  days, 
and  all  that  time  his  mother  hung 
around,  and  watched  things  with  all  her 
eyes.  She  heard  the  Bible  women  tell- 
ing stories  about  Jesus,  and  for  a  whole 
year  after  she  carried  the  baby  home 
she  kept  going  to  the  beautiful  church 
you  and  I  have  in  Arabia.  Then  one 
day  she  and  the  father,  and  Ibrahim, 
too,  joined  our  church  and  were  very 
happy. 

It  was  all  owing  to  our  good  Dr.  Mis- 
sionary who  heard  a  sick  baby  cry,  and 
packed  him  into  the  straw  donkey 
basket.  So  I  think  this  is  a  very  good 
donkey  tale,  don't  you? 


FIFTY-FIRST  STORY 

THE  LAND  WHERE  JESUS  WAS 
BORN 


The  star  at  the  top  of  the  Christmas  tree, 

Has  one  little  message  for  j'ou  and  for  me, 

It  says:  "Above  all  your  toys  and  your  fun, 

I'm  whispering  that  Christmas  was  really  begun. 

"Away  in  a  manger,  far  over  the  sea, 
With  shepherds  adoring,  and  bending  the  knee, 
I'm  twinkling  up  here  in  the  hope  that  you  may 
Help  spread  the  dear  story  of  glad  Christmas  Day.' 

329 


^^THE  LAND  WHERE  JESUS  WAS 
BORN'' 

In  just  a  few  days  it  is  going  to  be 
Christmas  Day — the  one  day  that  every 
Christian  boy  and  girl  loves  the  best  of 
all  the  days  in  the  year!  I  wonder  if 
you  know  what  God's  very  first  Christ- 
mas present  to  His  Family  was  ?  Why, 
it  was  the  gift  of  His  Son,  Jesus !  We 
sang  about  it  a  few  minutes  ago : 

'^Away  in  a  manger,  no  crib  for  a  bed, 
The   little   Lord  Jesus   laid   down   his 

sweet  head, 
The  stars  in  the  sky  looked  down  where 

he  lay, 
The   little   Lord   Jesus,   asleep   in   the 

hay." 

Of  course,  that  was  in  the  long,  long 
ago  time;  but  the  angels  and  the  stars 
can  never  forget  what  they  saw  that 
330 


Land  Where  Jesus  Was  Born      331 

first  Christmas  night.  I  think  the 
babies  help  them  to  remember !  White 
babies  in  your  home  and  my  home ;  yel- 
low babies  in  China,  with  black  slanting 
eyes;  brown  babies  in  India  playing  in 
the  dust ;  red  Indian  babies  laced  in  tree 
cradles;  Eskimo  babies  in  furry  bags; 
little  black  babies  in  Africa" — the  stars 
and  the  angels  can't  see  one  bit  of  dif- 
ference between  any  of  them !  And  each 
little  baby  has  his  own  little  angel  to 
watch  over  him — Jesus  told  us  so ! 

But  it  makes  me  feel  a  little  sorry  to 
remember  that  when  I  will  be  having 
a  merry  Christmas  in  my  home,  and  you 
will  be  having  a  merry  Christmas  in 
your  homes,  there  will  be  homes  and 
homes  all  over  God's  World  where  His 
Family  won't  even  know  it  is  Christmas 
at  all, — because  they  never  so  much  as 
heard  of  Jesus.  I  am  so  glad  God  sends 
His  angels  to  watch  over  all  the  little 
children  all  over  His  W^orld,  no  matter 
what  color  they  are,  or  whether  their 
parents  know  about  Jesus  or  about 
Christmas. 


332  Fifty-first  Story 

I  wonder  if  you  ever  thought  that 
when  God  sent  the  baby  Jesus  into  His 
World  as  a  first  Christmas  present,  He 
was  born  way  over  the  sea  near  the  land 
where  our  little  friend  Ibrahim  lives. 
It  is  very  curious  that  Mary  the  mother 
of  Jesus  did  some  of  the  very  same 
things  to  Jesus  that  Ibrahim's  mother 
did  to  Ibrahim.  For  the  Bible  tells  us 
that  on  that  first  Christmas  Day  when 
Jesus  was  born  Mary  ^^  wrapped  the 
baby  in  swaddling  clothes,''  which 
means  exactly  the  same  kind  of  calico 
bandages  that  Ibrahim's  mother  wound 
round  and  round  her  baby,  so  that  his 
legs  and  his  arms  could  not  move.  And 
I  think  possibly  Ibrahim's  mother  even 
laid  Ibrahim  in  a  manger,  just  as  Mary 
laid  Jesus;  for  in  Ibrahim's  tent  there 
was  a  trough  full  of  hay  where  the 
camels  ate  their  food,  and  when  his 
mother  wanted  Ibrahim  safely  out  of 
the  way,  I  haven't  a  doubt  she  laid  him 
in  there  for  a  while ! 

You  will  remember  that  when  Jesus 
came  to  live  in  God's  World,  He  started 


Land  Where  Jesus  Was  Born     333 

by  being  the  carpenter's  little  Boy,  so 
we  feel  sure  there  was  work  as  well  as 
play  for  Him,  because  His  parents  were 
poor,  just  as  Ibrahim's  parents  were 
poor.  Probably  He  used  to  go  to  the 
village  well  with  Mary,  His  mother,  just 
as  Ibrahim  goes  to  his  village  well  with 
his  mother.  Mary  carried  her  water  jar 
on  her  head,  just  the  way  Ibrahim's 
mother  carries  hers  today.  I  think 
Jesus  went  out  on  the  hillsides  with 
Mary  to  gather  fagots  of  brushwood 
for  the  fire,  and  He  helped  drag  them 
home,  the  way  Ibrahim  helps  his  mother 
today.  Perhaps  Jesus  helped  Mary 
spread  the  grain  out  in  the  sun  to  dry 
or  the  olives  to  ripen,  just  as  Ibrahim 
helps  his  mother.  Or  when  Mary 
ground  the  corn  into  flour,  perhaps 
Jesus  helped  turn  the  handmill,  just  as 
Ibrahim  helps  his  mother. 

I  like  to  think  that  the  little  boy  liv- 
ing today  in  the  same  land  where  Jesus 
lived  so  many  years  ago,  is  doing  the 
very  same  things  that  Jesus  did;  but 
wouldn't  it  be  splendid  if  he  could  grow 


334  Fifty-first  Story 

up  and  do  the  same  things  that  Jesus 
did  when  He  grew  upl  You  will  re- 
member what  those  things  were:  help- 
ing the  people  who  needed  help,  being 
gentle  to  those  who  were  in  trouble, 
making  sick  people  well  again,  loving 
little  children. 

God  made  Jesus  His  first  Christmas 
gift  to  His  Family,  so  everybody  in  the 
Family  could  know  the  way  to  live. 
But  it  is  not  easy  to  live  like  Jesus.  A 
great  many  people  never  even  try  at 
all;  a  great  many  others  try,  but  they 
don't  get  along  very  well.  But  I  think 
you  and  I  can  see  from  the  stories  I 
have  been  telling  3^ou  all  this  year  that 
our  missionaries  are  really  and  truly 
living  like  Jesus:  for  they  spend  all 
their  time  and  their  strength  in  helping 
people,  and  telling  them  about  Jesus, 
and  teaching  them  the  things  they  need 
to  know.  It  is  never  easy  work,  but 
they  keep  right  at  it,  all  the  time ! 

So  today  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing, now  listen  hard:  If  Jesus  is 
God's  first  Christmas  gift  to  us,  and  if 


Land  Where  Jesus  Was  Born     335 

He  keeps  right  on  giving  us  all  the  nice 
things  we  have, — our  homes  and  schools 
and  churches  and  pictures  and  toys — 
don't  you  reaUij  think  we  might  give 
some  Christmas  present  to  God'? 

I  dare  say  that  this  very  minute  we 
each  have  some  little  Christmas  present 
all  ready  for  mother,  and  one  for  father, 
perhaps  one  for  grandmother,  and 
brother  and  sister.  But  surely  we 
oughtn't  to  leave  God  out,  when  He  just 
gives  us  every  tiling  we  have! 

Now  what  do  you  suppose  He  would 
rather  have  the  very  best  of  all  ?  I  will 
tell  you.  I  think  He  would  just  love 
to  hear  you  and  me  say  to  Him:  '^Dear 
Father  in  heaven,  thank  you  for  all  your 
beautiful  Christmas  presents  to  me! 
The  only  present  I  have  to  give  you  is 
myself.  If  you  can  use  a  little  boy — 
a  little  girl — like  me  this  year,  I  want 
you  to  please  use  me.    Amen." 

And  of  course,  when  you  give  a 
Christmas  present,  you  never  try  to 
grab  it  back,  do  you  ? 

So  since  we've  given  ourselves  to  God 


336  Fifty-first  Story 

to  use,  let's  try  all  this  year  to  do  what 
we  can  to  help  the  other  children  in 
God's  Family  to  know  about  Him;  then 
perhaps  next  Christmas  a  good  many 
yellow  children  and  brown  children  and 
red  children  can  have  a  merry  Christ- 
mas, too. 


FIFTY-SECOND  STORY 

THE  GIFTS  THE  WISE  MEN 
BROUGHT 


Pennies  and  nickels  and  dollars  and  dimes 
Seem  made  to  give  children  very  good  times. 
But  when  we  remember  God's  World  I  don't  see 
How  we  can  ever  forgetful  be 
Of  children  who,  black,  red,  yellow,  and  brown 
Are  made  to  stone  idols  their  heads  to  bow  down. 
I  think  that  God  wants  us  like  Wise  Men  to  be, 
And  give  all  we  can  very  cheerfully. 


337 


^^THE  GIFTS  THAT  THE  WISE 
MEN  BROUGHT '' 

It  wasn't  very  long  after  the  first 
Christmas  Day,  years  and  years  ago, 
when  Jesus  was  born,  that  over  in  that 
far-away  land  three  men  set  out  on 
a  journey  to  find  Him.  We  call  them 
the  Three  Wise  Men,  and  what  do  you 
suppose  they  traveled  on"?  Why,  on 
camels  of  course,  the  very  same  kind  of 
camels  that  Ibrahim's  father  rode  when 
he  went  to  visit  the  House-that- Wears- 
an-Overcoat.  Day  after  day  the  Three 
Wise  Men  kept  riding  and  riding  on 
their  camels  across  the  desert,  follow- 
ing a  beautiful  new  star  in  the  sky, 
until  finally  tlie  star  stood  still  over  the 
stable  where  Jesus  was. 

Then  the  camels  knelt  down  in  the 
queer  way  camels  have  of  doing,  and 
the  Three  Wise  Men  got  off  their  backs 
338 


Gifts  the  Wise  Men  Brought     339 

and  went  into  the  poor  little  stable  to 
worship  Jesus. 

The  Bible  does  not  tell  us  a  single 
word  these  Wise  Men  said,  which 
seems  queer  because  what  wise  people 
say  is  usually  important ;  but  the  Bible 
does  tell  us  what  the  Wise  Men  did:  for 
they  each  gave  Jesus  a  beautiful  pres- 
ent. One  of  them  brought  him  precious 
gold;  another  rich  frankincense;  an- 
other wonderful  myrrh.  They  were  all 
very  expensive  presents,  worth  a  great 
deal  of  money. 

It  is  a  strange  thing,  but  ever  since 
that  day,  whenever  people  come  to  wor- 
ship Jesus  they  bring  him  presents, — 
precious  things,  like  money,  that  they 
could  use  for  themselves,  but  they  really 
want  to  bring  it  to  Jesus.  Every  Sun- 
day in  our  church  we  can  see  people 
bringing  their  presents  of  money  to 
Jesus,  we  call  it  the  ^'Offering/'  In 
Sunday  school  we  have  an  offering,  too, 
— all  of  it  for  Jesus. 

Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  what  hap- 
pens to  these  presents  of  money  for 


340  Fifty-second  Story 

Jesus'?  It  seems  to  me  you  must  have 
guessed,  for  every  Sunday  all  this  year 
I  have  been  trying  to  tell  you  in  one 
way  or  another!  When  I  kept  talking 
about  our  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Missionary 
here,  and  our  Hospital  there,  our  mis- 
sion school  in  that  country,  and  our 
orphanage  in  the  other  country,  I  meant 
that  these  precious  presents  we  bring  to 
Jesus  every  Sunday,  all  go  to  help  pay 
for  our  work  in  these  far-away  places. 
So  after  this  I  hope  you  will  love  the 
Offering  time  the  very  best  of  all! 
Make  up  little  stories  in  your  own  mind 
about  which  members  of  God's  Family 
you  hope  will  get  the  money  for  their 
mission.  Perhaps  you  will  do  it  like 
this:  ^^Let  me  see — I  guess  today  I 
want  the  money  to  help  tell  the  '  Cradle- 
that  -  Walked  -  on  -  Two  -  Feet'  about 
Jesus" — she  was  the  little  Japanese  girl 
who  carried  the  baby  on  her  back  all 
day,  you  remember?  But  the  minute 
you  decide  to  send  the  money  there,  you 
wdll  say:  ^' No, 'after  all,  I  really  think 
I'd  rather  send  it  to  the  little  red  ehil- 


Gifts  the  Wise  Men  Brought     341 

dren  whose  cradles  hang  up  in  the 
trees";  but  you're  sure  to  change  your 
mind  again  when  you  remember  the 
lonely  sunbonnet  children  in  the  Ken- 
tucky mountains,  or  when  you  think  of 
the  brown  children  in  India  who  wor- 
ship elephant  idols.  You  really  will 
have  an  awful  tune  deciding !  You  will 
be  so  afraid  there  won't  be  enough  to 
go  around  if  you  give  a  little  of  the 
offering  to  each  country. 

And  sometimes  there  really  isn't  quite 
enough  money  to  go  around !  Then  all 
the  men  and  women  who  have  charge 
of  our  missions  feel  very  unhappy,  be- 
cause they  know  how  badly  every  single 
one  of  our  missionaries  is  needed  to  tell 
the  members  of  God's  Family  about 
Jesus. 

But  I  don't  believe  the  people  in  our 
church  who  love  Jesus  will  ever  stop 
bringing  Him  offerings  when  they  come 
to  worship,  do  you?  For  by  the  time 
you  and  I  are  grown  up  we  will  be  giv- 
ing all  we  can,  and  we  will  be  telling 
these  very  stories  I  have  been  telling 


342  Fifty-second  Story 

you  to  our  very  owu  little  girls  and 
boys.  So  tlien  they  will  give!  Some- 
times I  think  the  only  reason  people  in 
our  church  don't  bring  bigger  presents 
of  money  to  Jesus  is  because  they  don't 
know  where  it  is  all  going,  the  way  you 
and  I  know. 

I  suppose  we  could  bring  more  if  we 
only  tried.  The  Wise  Men  brought 
precious  gifts  to  Jesus,  things  they 
really  might  have  enjoyed  keeping  for 
themselves.  None  of  us  has  a  great 
deal  of  money,  but  every  once  in  a  while 
we  spend  five  cents  for  candy  or  gum. 
Tell  me  this:  What  would  the  person 
who  wanted  to  help  God's  Family  do 
with  that  money "?  You  answer  that 
question  yourself,  and  next  Sunday  see 
if  we  can't  have  a  very  much  bigger 
offering  for  Jesus. 

Just  think  how  lovely  it  will  be  when 
every  single  little  child  in  all  God's 
Family  knows  about  Him !  Then  when 
Sunday  comes  around,  all  over  God's 
World  their  dear  little  voices  will  be 
singing  with  you  and  me:  ^^ Jesus  loves 


Gifts  the  Wise  Men  Brought      343 

me,  this  I  know.''  And  it  won't  matter 
at  all  that  some  of  the  children  will  sing 
in  Chinese,  and  some  in  Japanese,  some 
in  Hindu  and  some  in  English,  for  God 
understands  us  all  exactly  alike. 


Date  Due 


■i^^: 


-Ui; 


r-i 


AP    T'SS 


